My visiongoes red.
"Say it again. Say it with your whole chest this time, Marie.Second-hand.Say it."
"Vee," Eli says from the table, alarm in his voice.
I don't hear the rest.
I drop the tray.
Cups crash, coffee splashing, ceramic shattering. Someone gasps.
I launch myself at her.
It's not graceful. It's pure, ugly instinct. I slam into her, driving her back into the counter. She yelps, hands coming up to shield her face, and I see red because my brain pastes other faces over hers—faces from my old pack, the ones who called me broken, difficult, too much.
My nails catch skin. She cries out.
"VEE." Ragon's voice cracks through the bakery like a gunshot.
Hands grab me from behind—Drake's, Eli's, both hauling me back. I snarl, literally snarl, twisting. Marie's scent spikes in fear and in some twisted corner of my mind that only makes it worse.
"Enough!" Ragon roars.
The entire place stares.
The woman behind the counter is white as flour. A man near the window has his phone half-raised.
Jasper stands near the door, body relaxed, eyes like knives. Watching. Watching Marie. Watching Drake, whose first move was to put himself between Marie and danger, not me. Watching Eli, whose hands shake where they grip my arms.
I pant, chest heaving, held immobile.
Marie presses a napkin to a shallow scratch on her cheek, breathing fast. Tears tremble on her lashes.
Ragon steps between us all.
His scent is a wall. His face is carved from something without mercy.
"You will apologize. Now."
I laugh, hysterical. "For existing? For defending myself? For not smiling while she calls me trash someone else returned?"
"Vee," Eli says under his breath. "Stop."
"No. You wanted honesty. You wanted data. Here it is. She thinks I'm second-hand. You let her say it. Everyone watched."
"Enough." Ragon's eyes flash. "We are leaving. Now."
He turns to the stunned staff, pulling his wallet out. "We'll pay for everything. And extra for the trouble." His voice is cold and polite and terrifying.
No one argues.
Drake and Eli herd me toward the door. My legs move because theirs do. Marie follows, one hand still at her cheek, Ragon at her back like a shield.
The bell over the door jingles weakly.
Ragon doesn't speak until we're at the SUV.
"Back. Now."
