The silence that followed Valerica's words was heavier than the mountain air. Vane felt the phantom weight of his mother's death, a cold pressure that had lived in his chest for five months, suddenly shift. It didn't disappear, but for the first time, it wasn't just his to carry. He looked at Valerica's hand on his arm. Her skin was warm, and her grip was firm, lacking any of the hesitant pity he'd spent his life loathing.
He wanted to believe her. He wanted to just nod and let the Sol family's massive, crushing influence erase Gareth from the world. But the boy who'd spent years scraping a living out of the Oakhaven mud didn't know how to accept a gift without looking for the hook. He'd been a parasite for so long that the idea of a symbiotic bond felt like a trap.
