DAMIEN
I’ve never been good at sharing.
That might be because everything I ever cared about was taken from me and handed to my brother instead—my freedom, my place in the Voss family, even my right to choose who I became. But that was a long time ago, and I’m not the type to sit around nursing old wounds. That habit belongs to my mother.
May her soul rest in peace.
Not that she’s dead. But being married to my father might as well qualify as a slow, spiritual execution.
Maybe that’s why the instinct hits so hard whenever I look at her. The need to claim. To keep.
Rhea Ashford—or whatever name she decides to wear—doesn’t matter to me. She could be a saint or a serial killer, the world’s greatest thief or its most convincing liar. None of it would change a damn thing, as long as she’s w
