Chapter 25 · The Face He Stole

"That wasn't you."

I ripped my wrist out of Adrian's grip. His fingers had already left bruises, but he let go before I could twist free.

"Lynn—"

"The man who killed my father. It wasn't you."

My heart hammered against my ribs. The memory still burned behind my eyes—sharp, clear, impossible to dismiss.

Adrian went still. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Three years of hunting the wrong face. Three years of training, blood, and a promise made over Dad's grave. "He looked like you. Sounded like you. But Dad fought back. He drove a blade through the killer's left shoulder."

I grabbed Adrian's coat and shoved it off his shoulder. His shirt was clean. Pale skin. No scar.

"You don't have it."

He stared at his shoulder as if it belonged to someone else. Then his jaw locked.

"A shapeshifter," he said. "Or a blood mimic."

"Vampires can do that?"

"Not naturally." He started pacing, coat swinging with each turn. "Someone could've used my blood. The right spell, the right amount, and they'd have my face, my voice, maybe even my memories."

"They framed you."

"They made it look like I killed a hunter." He stopped and faced me.