My heart pounds loudly in my chest, I actually look around the room to see if anyone hears it.
It’s my fault.
It’s my fault.
Over and over, the thought repeats in my head, each time louder, sharper, more damning.
If I hadn’t called my father that day, he wouldn’t have rushed to pick me up. He wouldn’t have been on that road at that time, and maybe… maybe Wren would still be alive. The horror of the thought consumes me, my stomach twisting violently.
And yet… what if I’m wrong? What if it didn’t happen that way? But deep down, I know it did. It all fits too perfectly.
I’m gonna be sick.
I bolt out of the computer room, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t control. Each one of them just as horrifying asthe one before. The walls feel too close, the noise too loud. I need to get out. Away.
But as I turn a corner, I collide with something solid, the impact knocking the breath out of me.
“Ouch,” I mutter, rubbing my shoulder. I look up and freeze. Kai Steele. Of course.
He’s staring down at me flatly, and I quickly try to move past him. There’s something about him that makes me feel exposed every time. Especially now, when I’m sure the panic is written all over my face.
But as I try to sidestep him, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist.
Pain flares, and I let out a small hiss. He lets go immediately, but his eyes dart to my wrist. For a moment, I wonder what it is he’s seen—before I finally realize. The marks. The torn skin.
Kai’s eyes stay on my wrist, and I notice something else in his gaze. A fleeting emotion I can’t quite make out. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by an intense focus on my wrist. His tongue rolls to the side of his mouth, before he opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops himself.
What is he thinking?
“I-I need to go,” I stammer, yanking my sleeve down to cover the damage. My voice is shaky, my heart pounding in my ears. I can’t do this. Not now. Not with him.
But Kai doesn’t move.
“Don’t do that,” he says, his voice steady despite the look on his face.
I blink, slightly taken aback. “W-what?”
“Don’t do that shit,” he repeats, his tone harder now. Impatient. Angry. But beneath the frustration, there’s something else. Concern, maybe. It’s hard to tell.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words stick in my throat. What am I supposed to say to that? Instead, I just shakemy head, trying to brush him off. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I snap, though my voice trembles.
Kai’s eyes bore into mine, and I stare back at him—matching his intensity despite how small I feel under his gaze.
“Why?” he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm.
“Why do you care?” I finally manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t give one.
He looks at me blankly for a few seconds. Then he steps back, his eyes moving away from mine, as if looking at me genuinely angers him.
Like he regretted even looking at all.
And he turns to walk away.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a whisper before I can stop myself, and Kai pauses for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t look back—he just keeps walking, his shoulders slightly stiff. And as I watch him go, the guilt in my chest only deepens as I think about the article.
He must hate me.
***
