Genevieve's POV
I felt the air leave my lungs. The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet, the damp stone walls suddenly closing in around me like the sides of a grave.
"His soul is weak," Lysander continued, his voice smooth and methodical, dropping each word into the quiet hall like a heavy stone into a deep well.
"Stunted. Fragile. It has spent years in the dark, withered away under the weight of my presence. Do you think separating me from him is wise, Luna?"
He leaned down slightly, staring straight into my face. His eyes, Nicholas's beautiful, familiar brown eyes, bored straight into mine, stripping away every defense I had left.
"If I am forced out now without a blood anchor... he will shatter," Lysander said, his voice dropping into a soft, terrible promise.
"And he will die."
"No," I choked out, desperately shaking my head as tears finally burned the back of my eyes. "That's not true. You are lying to me! You are just trying to protect yourself!"
