The part that still aches from someone else’s mouth.
His eyes narrow to slits.
“Your lip is bruised.”
My entire body goes cold.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe past the ice climbing up my spine.
“I fell,” I whisper. “I must’ve… bumped it. Last night. In the kitchen.”
He doesn’t blink.
Doesn’t breathe.
Doesn’t believe me.
“I’ll pretend I buy that,” he murmurs. “But only for today.”
His hand slides down my neck, fingers brushing the chain.
Then he grips the locket.
Hard.
Too hard.
My breath skips.
Noah’s jaw flexes as he studies the pendant like it has personally insulted him.
“This,” he says quietly, “was not in any drawer in this house.”
I press myself back against the vanity, wishing the marble could swallow me whole.
“Noah, please?—”
“Where did you get it?”
I try to pull away.
He doesn’t let me.
His fingers tighten around the chain, not enough to hurt me, but enough for the message to land like a blade:
This is mine to question.
You are mine to answer.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
His eyes sharpen.
“You don’t know?”
His voice is razor-soft.
