Nathan does not hide his reaction when he steps inside my trailer, and his gaze sweeps slowly over the peeling paint, the thin curtains that barely block the cold, and the uneven flooring that creaks under his boots like it is apologizing for existing.
He exhales once through his nose.
“How long have you been living like this?” he asks, and there is no mockery in his tone, only disbelief.
“About two years,” I reply evenly. “Since my dad died.”
His jaw tightens slightly at that, and he nods once like he is filing the information away somewhere dangerous.
“I heard about your father,” he says. “He was one of our best warriors. Loyal. Strategic. Strong.”
I swallow but keep my face steady.
“He obviously passed that on to you,” Nathan adds, his eyes flicking briefly to the faint bruising
