MIRA

The room is still holding its breath from Jackson’s accusation. Aurora doesn’t move. She doesn’t flinch the way someone innocent might or sharpen the way someone guilty would, either.

She simply sits there, her hands folded over each other on the table, her gaze steady on me. And that calm is somehow worse than either panic or rage.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “I’ve been visiting him.”

Jackson is on his feet immediately, chair scraping violently across the floor. “You ...