Ivy held the strand of hair between her fingers, lifting it slowly toward the light.

It was thin. Dark. Ordinary.

And yet it felt heavy.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Damien’s room quiet except for the low hum of the night outside. He was asleep. His breathing steady now, deep and even, as if nothing had happened hours ago. As if she had not dragged him inside bleeding. As if she had not watched his body heal in ways no human ever could.

She stared at the strand.

A DNA test.

The thought had ...