Chapter 29 · The Basement's Dirty Secret

"Give it back, Cain. Now."

I didn't wait for an answer. I lunged. My fingers clawed at the yellowed envelope he held just out of reach. He stepped back—one sharp click of his boots on the cold stone—and I stumbled. My shoulder slammed into a heavy iron bookshelf.

Dust exploded. It smelled of old paper and something metallic. Dried blood.

"You're not ready for this," Cain said. His voice was a low vibration I felt in my chest more than I heard. He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the letter, eyes dark, unreadable.

"Ready for what?" I snapped. I twisted around, chest heaving against the thin fabric of my dress. "My mother is dead. Or she was. And now I find a letter saying she knew you? That she knew *this* would happen? I'm done with the riddles, Cain. Give. It. Back."

He finally looked at me. The intensity was suffocating. He stepped closer, closing the gap until his body heat radiated off him in waves. He didn't touch me, but he leaned in, breath hot against the shell of my ear.

"You think the truth is a gift, Ivy?" he whispered.