~Damon~

And then he leaned close, close enough that I could see the blood dried on his lip, close enough that the knife in my chest felt like part of him, part of his hand, part of the hate holding me down.

“I killed Father.”

Do you know what happens to a man when he hears those words for the first time? When his brother says it like he is talking about the weather, like he is telling you what he had for breakfast instead of confessing to killing the man who raised you both?

...