Windsor's POV
The trembling wouldn't stop.
No matter how securely Zion wrapped his arms around me, no matter how much warmth radiated from his body, I couldn't control the violent shaking that consumed me.
My thoughts kept spiraling back to that moment. Miguel's fingers digging into my cheek. His mouth forcing itself against mine. The bile rose in my throat just thinking about it.
My hands twisted in the fabric of Zion's shirt, desperate for something solid to anchor me.
I forced myself to focus on breathing. In and out. But my lungs felt tight, constricted, like they'd forgotten how to work properly.
What was he thinking?
What possessed Miguel to do something so revolting?
A dark possibility crept through my consciousness, one I'd been fighting since childhood when I first noticed how differently my family treated me. Like I was somehow separate from them. An outsider.
What if I really wasn't their blood?
What if I'd never belonged to this family at all?
