"So… what did you two discuss?" she asked, and her words were sharp with worry. "Is my father involved in all of this? Does he know anything about the attack?"
Her questions hit me harder than I expected. I could feel the pressure of the situation mounting, the weight of the truth pressing on me. But I had to be careful.
She needed to know, but she wasn’t ready for all of it. She was still too emotionally raw from everything that had happened, the betrayal, the lies, the dark undercurrents of our world that I hadn’t shared with her yet.
I kept my eyes on the road, my grip on the wheel tightening. "What do you think?" I replied, my voice cold, but heavy with implication.
She didn’t immediately answer, but I could see her thoughts racing behind her eyes. She was piecing everything toget
