Kaelen's POV
I grabbed a damp cloth from beside my bed and knelt down next to the shattered picture frame. Dried blood had already formed a dark crust across Genevieve's face in the photograph. The sight of that crimson streak cutting through her smile made my gut clench with familiar pain.
I pressed the cloth against the glass carefully. The blood lifted away in small, brownish flakes. I wiped again, this time with more gentle pressure, afraid of damaging what remained. But my efforts only made things worse. The stain began to spread across her features like spilled ink. Her smile disappeared beneath the growing blur of brown that consumed her face.
I stopped abruptly.
My hand trembled above the ruined photograph. I stared down at what my cleaning had accomplished. Genevieve's face looked distorted now. Destroyed in an entirely different way than before.
I forced myself not to think about Lyra as I set the cloth aside and rocked back on my heels.
