LILY DID not cry when she finally allowed herself to think about her father.
The absence of tears unsettled her more than grief ever had.
She sat on the narrow balcony outside the safehouse room, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around herself as if she could keep the truth from leaking out of her skin. The night was loud. Sirens echoed too close to be coincidence. Somewhere far below, people were shouting, celebrating, running, or hiding. The city did not pause for revelations.
Jeremiah stood a few feet away, leaning against the doorway, giving her space without leaving. He had learned that balance the hard way.
“He didn’t love me,” Lily said quietly.
Jeremiah did not answer. He waited.
“He didn’t give me to Ronan because he wanted me safe,” she continued. “He gave me away because I was
