Viola.

A week had passed quietly somehow, days blending into routines without much fuss, but we didn't talk about Azaro at all—not a single word, like an unspoken rule hanging heavy.

And I didn't ask Mathew what he had done to him either, not pushing for details that might reopen fresh scars.

I just tried to keep to that silent agreement and do not try to open his old wounds again, steering clear of anything that could trigger memories.

The memories of his dead mother were bothering ...