Aylin tilted her head back into his hands, allowing the warm water to soak her hair while his fingers worked the soap through it. His touch was deliberate but careful, as if every motion was a wordless vow to handle her gently from now on. She leaned her head back, enjoying the rhythmic movement of his fingers on her scalp.
"She terrified a lot of people," Aylin murmured. "And she enjoyed it. I used to think she hated me because I was weak. That I wasn't good enough for her son."
Sasha slowed his fingers, not because he was unsure, but because he was listening. Every word Aylin said was a long-buried truth, and he did not want to miss any of them.
"She never gave me the chance to prove something," Aylin whispered again, her voice hollow. "Not to her, not to people under their command and especially not to Silas."
