Tiffany POV
It didn't hurt.
That was the first surprise. Everything about my life had trained me to expect pain from things that reached for me.
Instead, the thing made of the reservoir simply touched the edge of my mind the way you'd rest a hand on someone's shoulder.
You, it said. Not in words but a sense of recognition.
"Me," I said out loud, but my voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
"Tiffany." Elena's voice, tense, ready to move. "Talk to me. What's happening?"
"It's not hurting me."
"That doesn't mean it's safe."
"Nothing in my life has ever been safe," I said. "This isn't new."
I was eight the first time my mother told me who my father was and made me swear never to say his name where anyone could hear.
I was eight, and I already understood that being Quinn's daughter was a secret to be managed, not a fact to be proud of.
