Willow stood at the window, watching darkness creep across the garden. Dorian was still there, a shadow on her doorstep with his head bowed.
He had been there for hours, silent now after his confessions. Evan had finally fallen asleep, asking three times about the "sad man" outside.
She shouldn't care. She should let him sit there all night, let him freeze, let him suffer a fraction of what she had endured, but seeing him broken on her doorstep stirred something she had tried so hard to bury.
It was not love, she told herself. Just basic human decency.
Elena would be furious, but tonight, with Evan safe in bed and her protective wards strong around the cottage, she made a decision that went against every instinct.
She opened the door.
Dorian looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand sharply.
