Voice low. Calm. Deadly. It hits the air like a blade.
Jensen’s hand freezes mid-reach.
Declan hasn’t moved much. He’s still standing just inside the gate, helmet dangling from one hand. But his posture has shifted. Even small changes on a frame his size feel seismic.
He is a wall of ice in human form.
“Back up,” Declan says. It’s not a request.
Jensen shifts his weight, flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He glances at the guys, then back at me, rolling his eyes slightly. “Relax, man. We’re friends. Right, Talia?”
He looks at me. Expecting the silence.
“I said no,” I say.
The words tear out of me, slicing through the cold air. Not loud, but sharp.
His jaw works. The easy charm cracks. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah,” Zoë mutters behind me, voice thick with disgust. “You do.”
I push off the wall. Legs shaking, but moving. I take one step forward. Then another.
“I said no,” I repeat, stronger this time. “I told you to stop. I told you I didn’t want you. I told you to open the door.”
His face drains of color. He looks around, looking for an exit, a witness to co-opt.
“Talia,” he starts, voice lowering, trying to make it intimate. Trying to make itoursecret again. “You’re remembering it wrong. We were both drunk, come on. Don’t make a scene.”
“You locked the door,” I say. “You pinned me against it. You put your hands on me when I said no.”
The world narrows down to his face. His eyes. The shallow, rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“You don’t get to talk to me,” I say, voice dropping to a low, controlled hum. “You don’t get to say my name. You don’t get to look at me like you know me.”
I take another step forward, into his space. Heart banging against my ribs, but the terror is braided with something else. A cold, bright thread of certainty.
“And you will never touch anyone like that again.”
Jensen swallows. I see the exact moment the first real fear hits. He looks past me, to Declan, to the line of Titans closing ranks behind him.
He realizes, finally, that he’s not the one with the power in this hallway.
“You’re crazy,” he mutters, forcing a scoff. He spins around, shouldering past his own confused teammate, disappearing into the safety of the locker room.
He runs.
My legs give out.
I don’t hit the floor.
Declan drops his gear. His arms are around me instantly, solid and warm, taking my weight before I can fall.
“Got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
“You did it,” Clara whispers, right beside us. “T, you did it.”
I’m shaking so hard I can barely feel my own skin, but I’m upright. Held up by the man who knows exactly what it costs to stand your ground.
