DEBORAH'S POV
Something in her tone made me step back. The way she said, "I'm not the one holding on to him," hit me like a physical blow. It was as if she'd reached right through my chest and squeezed my heart until it hurt to breathe. I felt my face flush, anger and desperation warring inside me. I didn't want to show weakness, not in front of her. But Imogen had always had that effect, making me feel like a cornered animal, every insecurity raw and exposed.
"He did horrible things to you," I said, louder than I meant. My voice trembled. "Why would you want him back?"
Imogen didn't flinch. If anything, she looked at me with new contempt. There was a flash in her eyes, cold and almost dangerous. "Your father and his men were there that night too," she said, voice steady. "So if you want to pull that card, you should know it would only push me to take vengeance even more."
