Damien’s POV:

Fiona's eyes were still saucered wide, tear tracks carving silver rivers down her cheeks like streams through a wasteland. Her frail hand slipped from her mouth, trembling as it reached for me, brushing my face—not the mask's chill, but living skin, warm and real. "Boy... you... you're no monster. You're... Aaron? The young fella driving Selene to work every day? Moon above, how'd I miss it?"

I caught her hand, pressing it gentle to my cheek, letting her feel the truth. The ...