Chapter 71 The Name Of My Murderer

• ZOE
• I stepped away from him as if I were burning. As if my body knew what my mind still refused to accept: that loving him was still the most dangerous weapon. The house felt alien, as if every hallway had been built to suffocate me. I walked aimlessly until I locked my rage in the only cell I could control: an empty room in the east wing, where the dust still didn’t know of our wars.
• I sat on the floor, back against the wall, hugging my knees as if that could contain the fury, the disgust, the shame. Not for him. For me. For still trembling when I hear him say my name. For still wanting him when I should run. For confusing love with the fire that consumes me.