Michael met her gaze, his own expression a mixture of weariness and… something else. Regret? Guilt? It was hard to tell, even for him.
"What do you want, Rowena?" he asked, his voice a low, steady rumble. "What do you want me to say?"
But Rowena ignored his question, her focus fixed on the one thing that consumed her, the one question that echoed through the empty chambers of her heart.
"Why, Ghost?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why did you kill him? Didn't you… didn't you feel even a… a spark of… of love for him? Even though… even though you never grew up as… as family?"
Michael didn't answer. He couldn't. The truth, the messy, complicated truth, was tangled up in a knot of guilt and regret, a knot he hadn't yet figured out how to unravel.
