I opened my eyes slowly and lifted my head from my arms. I was still in my office, the papers I’d been examining crinkled beneath my arms.
Running a tired hand down my face, I tried to get rid of the exhaustion. I sat back in the chair, thankful I had not had another nightmare, but I wasn’t sure if it was indeed better to see a piece of reality instead.
The memory was not one that I was proud of. I had turned my back on my mate and had broken the promise I had made several times. It was my fault she had turned out the way she had, corrupted and poisoned by her father.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether she would still be here had I taken her with me that day. I wouldn’t have needed to kill her because she would have put me before everything else. Her love for me would have been genuine.
I could have trusted her.
I buried my head in my hands, my fingers digging into my scalp. In the end, it was my fault. If I hadn’t given her up that day, if she’d grown up under my care, I never would have needed to choose between her and my pack.
But the reality of the situation was that Cleo had been raised by her father, not me, and she was dead because I had killed her.
