Chapter 9—Let Them Mourn.

Kyra

The hand on my shoulder made me spin.

Instincts kicked in, hands half raised ready to protect myself but I paused midway.

“Easy,” the male whose hand was on my shoulder spoke, his eyes lighting up in amusement as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

He was tall, almost the same height as Tristan. A pale scar ran across his left eyebrow down the bridge of his nose narrowly missing his eyes. If it had cut any deeper, he definitely would have been losing ...