CIAN
I grabbed a wet wipe from the nightstand and knelt back down beside the broken frame. The blood had already started to dry on Madeline's face in the photograph. A dark red streak across her cheek that made my stomach turn.
I pressed the wipe against the picture carefully. The blood came away in small patches, brown now instead of red. I wiped again, gentler this time, trying not to press too hard. But the more I cleaned, the worse it got. The blood began to smudge across her face. It blurred her features. Her smile started to fade under the brown stain spreading across the photo.
So I stopped.
My hand hovered over the picture. I stared at what I'd done. At the way Madeline's face looked now. Distorted. Ruined in a different way than before.
I tried not to think about Fia as I set the wipe down and sat back on my heels.
You know how stubborn she can be. My wolf's voice drifted through my mind. Low and knowing. Like it had been waiting for the right moment to speak.
