“You don’t want to see it before it goes out?” she asked, phone already in hand, fingers hovering over the screen.
“No,” I muttered. “I don’t care. Just—” I swallowed, jaw tight. “Keep it about me.”
Selene nodded once, already typing.
Julian studied me for another second before speaking. “We’ll make it clear you’re handling this like any father would. That you didn’t know, but you stepped up. That’s all anyone needs to hear.”
I barely nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore. They’d say whatever suited them. Whatever kept the sponsors happy, kept the headlines neat. That was the job. Julian’s job. Not mine.
I pulled my phone from my pocket as I stepped past him.
Julian’s voice softened just enough to register. “You did the right thing, Griffin.”
A dry laugh scraped my throat. “Yeah? Doesn’t feel like it.”
Aedris could spin their narrative. Julian could act like he still had control. Let them.
I scrolled through my contacts, thumb hovering over the one name that mattered.
Then I fired off the message: Find me a new seat.
The air outside was cooler, but it didn’t help. My body still buzzed, my fingers still twitched, my skull still pounded from where Callaghan’s fist had landed.
I needed to hit something. Or fix something.
And since hitting things wasn’t an option, I made my way to the only person who could settle the burn in my chest.
Violet.
The hotel room door clicked shut behind me, and for a second, I thought Violet had gone to bed. Then I spottedher curled up on the sofa, one arm tucked under her head, the other draped across her stomach. The soft glow from the city outside lit the edge of her face, the rise and fall of her breathing slow and steady.
She’d fallen asleep waiting for me.
That did something to me, made my chest ache and my eyes burn.
No one had ever waited up for me after a night race.
I rolled my shoulders, my body still vibrating with frustration. None of it mattered right now.
I walked over to Hazel’s crib and rested my hands on the edge, peering down. Tiny fingers twitched in her sleep, her lashes fluttering. A perfect, peaceful little thing.
How the hell did something so small cause so much drama?
She stirred, her nose scrunching, tiny hands curling into fists before settling again.
I let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over my lip. My split fucking lip.
“Can’t believe you got to P3. Congratulations,” Violet said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
I turned and found her sitting up, hair mussed, tank strap slipping down one shoulder. Sleep still clung to her, softening the sharp edges, but her eyes sharpened as they landed on my face.
Her gaze dragged over my bruised jaw and split lip, the still-fresh anger simmering under my skin.
“What the hell happened?” She shoved the blanket off and stood, arms crossed.
I tipped my head toward Hazel. “Keep it down, Princess.”
She dropped her voice to a whisper and asked, “Callaghan?”
