“You’re mixing up your mythologies.” She examines her nails. She’s painted them a matte beige color that looks professional and sleek. Monroe seems to change her nails a lot. That surprised me the first week, but now I suspect that doing so calms her and gives her some control when she’s feeling out of sorts.

She’s been feeling out of sorts a lot lately.

Or maybe I’m just projecting and the reason she changes her nails a lot is because she is a fickle woman who likes pretty things.

“Shiloh.”

“But why?”

She focuses entirely on me. After a pause where I find myself holding my breath, she crawls across the bed to kneel at my side and take my hand. “Because all children deserve to be protected. I can’t go back and save the child you were, but I can rain down hellfire and damnation on those responsible.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Though, truly, there’s no way at least some people in that town didn’t know. They might have lied to themselves about the warning signs or looked away because it’s easier than fighting on behalf of someone being victimized, but they at least suspected.”

She’s right, of course. Someone did know. Her mother. Oh, I can’t be sure Aisling was aware of the extent of the abuse, but when she caught sight of me that single time, I was a borderline malnourished child. Obviously something was wrong, and she turned away instead of enacting that famous Amazonian justice.

What would Monroe think if she knew that?

It might drive a wedge between her and her mother. Or she might call me a liar and that would be the end of us, right here and now.

“Maybe I should burn the whole fucking town down,” she muses. “That would certainly send a message.”

I don’t mean to take her face in my hands. I really don’t. But my body moves without permission, and her skin is so fucking soft, completely at odds with the fierce violence in her voice. “Monroe,” I say, soft and slow. “You cannot burn down a town for me.” You cannot start a conflict with your own mother for me.

“I most certainly can.” She refocuses on me. “Whether or not I do it is still up for debate. My mother wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t stand in my way.”