*~Cyrius's POV~*
Indeed, I had gone back to France and Hazel was right. She led them straight to me.
From the shadows, I gazed up at the window, where she stood beside Caspian. He was holding her, comforting her. And jealousy burned through me like wildfire. How could she allow that? How could she let him touch her like that, knowing what he did to me?
The bastard. He drove a dagger down my spine. He and his brothers buried me—alive.
The darkness had nearly consumed me. I screamed Hazel's name countless times, hoping she'd hear, hoping she'd come. She didn't.
She was the only one I believed could save me.
But then I found out, they erased her memories. Perhaps… that explained why she never came. Why did she forget me?
My anger faded slightly, but the ache in my chest remained. Still, I couldn't act on that pain. Not yet. These babies in my arms—the very same ones they called mystics—were too important. I had to protect them first.
