"Correction… he lured you into this," the witch said softly, her smile stretching into something deeply unsettling, as though she were savoring every crack forming in Alicia's composure.
Alicia's breath hitched. Her head turned slowly, unwillingly, toward Nicholas. He stood slumped where he was, messy strands of blond hair falling into his face, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, dulled by pain and exhaustion. For a moment, he didn't look like the man she knew—sharp, steady, dependable—but rather like someone already halfway broken.
"H-he didn't…" Alicia whispered, the denial leaving her lips before she could stop it. Her chest tightened as she searched his face for any sign that this was another lie, another cruel game the witches were playing.
