Elio pulled back just enough to cup my face in both hands, thumbs brushing away my tears even as his own streamed down his cheeks.
"You're alive," he whispered, voice cracking on every syllable. "You're alive."
"I thought you were dead," I choked out. The words tasted like salt and old grief. "Father wouldn't tell me anything. He just said you were gone—said I should stop asking. I thought I would never see you again."
Elio's eyes darkened. "I looked for you." His voice broke again. "Father sold me but I escaped. I searched for you after, but I couldn't find you. No one knew where you went. The pack said you'd run away, but I knew better. I knew you wouldn't leave without me unless something terrible happened."
"Father sold me too," I said. The confession came out small, almost a whisper, but it landed like a stone between us.
"He what?" Elio's hands tightened on my face, not painfully, just like he needed to anchor himself.
