Ronan's POV
Blood dripped from my palm as I stood in the middle of the witch's stone circle. Smoke swirled around my legs, thick and sweet-smelling.
"Are you certain you want to do this?" Mara asked, her blind eyes somehow still finding mine in the dim candlelight. Unlike Isolde, this witch had no loyalty to the Syndicate or the packs. She served only the balance.
"I need to remember," I said strongly. "Sienna deserves the truth."
After the fight at the caves yesterday, I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew more about the Midnight Queen than I was letting on. My past with Sienna was a puzzle with too many missing pieces.
Mara nodded and took my wounded hand. "Memories blocked by magic leave scars on the mind. Breaking through will hurt."
"I can handle pain."
She smiled sadly. "Not this kind."
Before I could respond, she pressed her thumb against the cut on my palm and started chanting. The smoke thickened, climbing up my legs, my chest, until it filled my lungs.
