“WHAT?” Charles staggered back as though the word itself had struck him.
Shantel didn’t flinch.
“I said,” she repeated evenly, “Sunshine is alive.”
The room felt too small. Too tight.
His ears rang.
“You are sick,” he whispered. “You are actually sick.”
“I’m not.”
“You told me she died!” he roared suddenly. “You said she died, Shantel!”
She...