EVE’S APPLE
The way her words stumbled when she tried to hide something.
I’d seen it before, years ago, when she was younger, when she lied about sneaking out with Agatha. When she tried to cover up the bruise on her wrist after falling off her bike.
But this was different. Bigger.
I had an idea what it was.
And the thought of it made my chest tighten in a way no battlefield ever had.
“She’s tangled in this mess already,” my second-in-command muttered across the table, snapping me back to the present.