Jayden sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking silently as tears streamed down her face. I watched her, my expression softening—not out of compassion, but because I enjoyed the contradiction of her fear and her growing devotion.
With Telepathy, I listened to her thoughts, her mind a storm of conflict:
[I thought Jack would kill me... after all, I shot him... trying to kill him...] Her mind raced, her emotions raw and tangled. [But he's so gentle with me now... didn't make anything difficult for my daughter and husband...]
A pause. A hesitation.
[But he really killed all those people... in Arturo's house... and even those police officers...] Her thoughts darkened, her guilt gnawing at her. [But why don't I hate him?]
Another pause. A dangerous realization.
