Fadel’s POV

The truth tasted like ash.

“And that,” I finished, my fingers curling white around the chains, “is a punishment I will carry long after these flames die out.”

I slumped against the cold floor, the chill seeping through my skin and into my bones. The chains lay heavy against my wrists, but I barely felt them.

A part of me refused to accept it. She could not have done this. Not Winter. Not my Winter.

Was I truly that terrible?

I replayed every moment, every word, every ...