Seraphina's Point Of View
I sat on the plush leather sofa, the kind that felt like it cost more than my entire education, tucked safely… or perhaps dangerously, beside Azriel. His presence offered a steady, warm weight next to me, a sharp contrast to the man standing by the fireplace.
The heat from Azriel's body seeped through my sleeve, grounding me when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. I focused on that warmth, using it as an anchor to keep from drowning in the revelations crashing over me.
The man. The monster. Charles Silvestro.
No... my father.
