The figure in the doorway wasn’t Damien.
It was someone even harder to face.
I felt my heart seize in my chest. For a second, I was frozen, caught somewhere between disbelief and old memories I’d tried to bury. My stomach twisted, a dizzy, sinking feeling spreading through my whole body as the shape in the light finally stepped into focus.
“Catherine,” I whispered, barely trusting my voice. It sounded too thin, almost childlike.
Alexander’s hand clamped around mine so hard it almost hurt. I could feel the tension running through him, like he was ready to throw himself between us and this woman if he had to. He took a step forward, shielding me, but I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t.
It had been years since I’d seen heryears since I’d even let myself say her name out loud. She was still as poised and striking as ever, her movements as precise as always, every line of her body under control. Catherine Sinclair: once my mentor, my guide, the person who taught me how to move in this world.
