When I saw the look in Cassel's eyes as he stared at the family begging us for help, I understood in an instant what was going through his mind.
How could I not?
I had followed him through every year of his life—right up to the moment of his death in the novel. I had memorized every shade of his emotions, every silent thought woven between the lines. Over time, the patterns of his mind had carved themselves into me.
One glance was all it took.
I knew what he was feeling the way I knew the beat of my own heart.
Cassel was feeling envy.
Yes—envy.
For as long as he'd lived, he had wanted a family. Wanted affection. Wanted the simple, quiet warmth that everyone else seemed to take for granted. He never said it aloud, but that longing clung to him like a ghost.
