Draven.
The study was quiet again, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Dennis still looked riled, the word snake hanging in the air between us. I leaned back in my chair, watching him, remembering how often he bristled at the mention of Wanda.
For a moment, I weighed my thoughts, then finally asked, "Tell me, Dennis—why do you hate Wanda so much?"
He blinked at me, caught off guard. Then his lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled.
"I suppose you deserve the truth. I didn't always hate her as you already know. In fact…" He gave a humorless chuckle. "When we were younger, I liked her very much."
I tilted my head, the memory surfacing easily. "I remember. You used to follow her around like a shadow."
A flush of embarrassment crossed his face, but he nodded. "Yes. Foolish, wasn't it? Looking back now, I regret every bit of it."
