CIAN
I was an idiot.
The thought looped in my head as I stood in the hallway that led toward my room. My hand was still raised, fingers curled into a loose fist like I'd been about to knock on something. But there was nothing to knock on. Just regret
Ronan had told me to be careful. To think before I spoke. To consider that maybe the intensity of my suspicions came from somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I didn't want to look.
And what had I done?
I'd walked up to Madeline and still thrown the accusation at her like a grenade.
The look on her face when I'd said it. The way her body had gone rigid. The crack of her palm against my cheek still burned.
I deserved it.
I deserved worse than that.
She'd taken offense. Real, raw offense. The kind that couldn't be faked. And why wouldn't she? I'd accused her of murder. Of working for my uncle. Of being some kind of sleeper agent sent to destroy everything I cared about.
