I just walked out.
My heels echoed down the hallway as I stormed toward the parking lot, pulse pounding in my ears and my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Professionalism, my ass.
I’d tried.
And maybe I’d failed. Maybe I’d let him get to me.
But if Kieren Walker wanted a war?
He just got one.
The second the door shut behind me, I ripped off my press badge like it was covered in acid.
“He’s not even charming,” I muttered under my breath as I stormed down the hallway, heels clicking like gunshots. “Or smart. Or remotely attractive. Not at all. Not even a little?—”
I stopped mid-rant.
“Shut up, Daphne,” I hissed to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose.
A rookie—looked barely twenty—passed me carrying a duffel bag twice his size. He slowed, eyes wide like a kid who’d just seen a celebrity lose it in the cereal aisle.
“You good, Sommers?”
“Fine,” I said, voice bright and brittle. “Fantastic. Best interview of my life.”
He nodded slowly and gave me a well then look before hurrying away.
I shoved open the exit door and let the blast of cold air slap some sense into me. By the time I reached my car, I wasn’t just angry—I was feral. I threw my gear bag into the passenger seat and climbed in, teeth clenched so tight my jaw throbbed.
I didn’t even start the engine.
Just sat there, fuming.
I opened my tablet, pulled up the footage, and hovered over the delete icon.
I wanted to erase it. Every second. Every smirk. Every clipped answer, every dig. I wanted to wipe the entire thing from existence and pretend Kieren “God Complex” Walker had never spoken a word to me.
But I didn’t press delete.
Instead, I hit play.
Again.
I told myself it was to fuel the righteous fire. Give myself one last reason to hate him. Justification for the snatched mic, the trashed coffee, the way I stormed out like a woman in a breakup montage.
The first few minutes were exactly as I remembered. Cold. Combative. Electric with the kind of tension that couldn’t be edited out.
But then?—
I saw it.
The flicker.
It happened right after I said the word prime. His mouth tightened. Just a little. Barely noticeable in the moment, but obvious now that I was looking for it.
And when I brought up legacy—his whole posture shifted. Like someone had pulled the floor out from under him and he was trying to pretend he was still on solid ground.
