MIREYA’S POV
I didn’t realize my legs had given out until Sera grabbed my arms, anchoring me against her.
“Whoa,” she gasped, staggering a little under my weight. “Mireya, are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman—the witch who had tethered me to Damian, who had ensured he could hunt me down no matter how far I fled.
What was she doing here? How long had she been here?
If she was here, did that mean Damian was close?
Gods, had he sent her to find me?
I gripped Sera’s arm hard enough for my nails to pierce her skin, but she didn’t flinch. She just kept looking at me with concern, her grip firm around me.
“Wait, I recognize you,” the woman said, uncrossing her legs and standing.
A crease formed between her brows as she studied me like an insect pinned to a board. “Where do I know you from?”
I let out a disbelieving scoff. “Goddess, how many poor souls have you cursed that you don’t remember me?”
