My voice shakes—rage, disgust, something feral and ugly I don’t bother controlling. “You must’ve wanted me to lose my fucking mind.”
Her shadow crosses his.
He touches her and my whole fucking world goes silent.
“You think he knows how you sound when you break?” I mutter, voice dropping to a violent whisper. “You think he knows what your body does when you’re trying not to want something you shouldn’t?” I laugh again—sharper, darker. “He doesn’t know shit.”
I lean closer to the window until my breath fogs the glass again.
“Does he have any idea,” I whisper, “that you see me when he puts his mouth on you?”
My pulse thunders.
“You let him kiss you with my name trapped behind your teeth.”
I press my thumb into my palm, grounding myself, but it does nothing. The rage is too deep, too old, too fucking earned.
“You’re not with him,” I growl. “You’re surviving him.”
She disappears deeper into the house.
My breath shakes.
“You run from the window like you used to run from my eyes.”
His shadow follows her.
I see their shapes overlap.
I nearly tear the steering wheel off.
“You let him touch you and pretend it’s real,” I say quietly, venom dripping from every syllable. “But you’re lying. You’vebeen lying since the night you fucking walked away.” My hands tighten. “You want me,” I hiss. “You always fucking did.”
The light upstairs flicks on.
Bedroom.
I go still.
“You go up with him?” My voice is low. Deadly. “You really that far gone?”
My pulse is a deep, murderous drum.
“You let another man hold you?” A laugh—quiet, cracked, feral. “You must want me to tear this fucking house apart.”
I exhale slow, shaking with the kind of rage that burns cold.
“I’m not watching him keep you.” My voice drops to a whisper sharp enough to cut glass. “I’m taking you back.”
Her shadow appears near the upstairs window—small, tense, shaking.
Mine.
She’s still fucking mine.
“You hear me, little sister?” I murmur, the words raw and obsessive and four years overdue. “You’re still mine.”
Another shadow joins hers.
