The door clicked shut behind Luna.She leaned against it, pressed her forehead to the cool wood, and tried to remember how to breathe.He knows.He knows about the children.He knows I'm alive.He knows everything.Her hands were shaking. Her chest was tight. The mask she'd worn for five years — the cold, untouchable mask of the Grey Queen — had cracked the moment he'd said her name.Luna.Not Lyna. Not the merchant. Not the stranger.Luna.The girl who had loved him. The girl he'd destroyed. The girl who had crawled out of the fire and built herself into something new.That girl is dead, she told herself. I killed her. I buried her. She's gone.But her heart didn't listen.It never listened."Mom?"She looked up.KJ stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, jaw set. Behind him, Silas, Rhea, and Ronan were arranged like a tiny army — four pairs of eyes fixed on her with varying degrees of suspicion, curiosity, and barely contained fury."KJ," she said carefully. "I need you to—"
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