A low, mirthless sound passes for a laugh. He still doesn’t turn. “Oh sure. Let me just use up my precious energy to pick up a pen and give you a little post-it for your comfort. I’m not wasteful like you are.”
“Wasteful,” I repeat, grabbing the doorframe and limping a few steps toward him. “You mean existing? Speaking? Taking up space in ways other than brooding in the nearest shadow?”
He flicks me a sidelong look.
“You call folding yourself in half for three men in a car living?”
I scoff.
This is insane.
I have a working body now. A brand new working body. If I want to fold in half why the hell not? Seems like a way better thing to do than wallowing in self-pity.
“You really want to have this conversation with me?” I ask. “You, my literal fragment, the voyeur hitchhiking behind my eyes for half a decade, are judging me for… havingfun?”
He doesn’t blink.
“I’m judging you for making it the center of your universe.”
The words land in me like hooks. Tiny, sharp, painful.
“What?”
He faces forward again. “Just… have some self-respect, maybe? Why them? Talon slut-shamed you three days ago, and you still climbed into the back seat and let him fuck you senseless.”
My mouth opens. Closes.
I… yeah. That happened.
I remember every syllable Talon said.
But when Pain points it out, there’s suddenly nowhere to hide and it seems uglier than in my memory.
My jaw sets. “Thanks for the recap, but that was for the power.”
He laughs yet again.
“Right,” he says. “Power. That’s your catch-all lately, isn’t it? You needed it, so you took it. No matter who it came from. No matter what it cost.”
“It didn’t cost me anything,” I snap.
His gaze cuts to me, narrowed and razor-sharp. “It costmesomething.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Oh, please. What did it cost you?”
“Dignity.” No hesitation. No softness. “That’s what.”
The breath leaves me faster than I can control.
“You sound jealous.”
“I’mprotective,” he fires back instantly. “Which is insane, considering what I am. But yes, maybe I don’t enjoy watching pieces of myself get tossed to three men who don’t deserve you. You’re better than them, Skye. They’re cracked souls frozen in the moment of their undoing.”
“And I’m not?” I ask quietly.
Now it’s his turn to freeze.
For once in this back-and-forth, Pain has nothing sharp to fling at me. His mouth remains half open, caught mid-retort, like he can feel a response forming but can’t get it past his own throat.
