Hurt. It wasn't even a word to describe what Delilah was feeling. Tears brimmed her eyes, and she blinked furiously to hide and suppress her emotions.
She remembered Massiah telling her Simon was dead, and she had cried so much, thinking that her team died because of her. But if he died, who was this person with the same name, face, voice, and scent?
She wanted to be delusional and think of this man before her as a replica of Simon, a brother she didn't know about, or someone who performed plastic surgery to look like him, but how could she excuse his scent? How could she excuse his unique eyes, the mole on his neck, or the wound mark on the back of his hand that she herself had given to him accidentally while sparring?
Her heart ached terribly, and it was becoming hard for her even to breathe.
