My hand shoots out. I don’t even know I’m going to grab her until my hand is on her throat and I’m pushing her against the wall beside the door.
“Bullshit,” I hiss. “There’s always a choice.”
Is there, though, when Rooke’s involved?
“Is there?”
My head spins hearing her echo my thoughts like she’s reading fucking subtitles. She arches her back, pushing into my grip, one hand grabbing my wrist, the other pushing against my chest.
“Because from where I’m standing, it seems like everything I do just drives me deeper into his trap.” She hesitates, then adds a whispered, “Us.”
“What trap?”
She blinks away her tears. I can’t decide if those blue eyes look prettier without makeup, or smudged with black like they are now.
The muscles under my fingers tighten as she takes a breath.
“I went to him because he told me to. Because he said if I didn’t, we’d both be punished.”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“He framed you, Kai. And he was more than willing to frame me too.”
It wasn’t paranoia. It was fucking pattern recognition.
I stare at her.
She stares back, mouth tight, jaw clenched.
“Why—” I have to clear my throat. “Why would he…?”
“To prove that he controls us. Controlseverything. And then he undid it, just as easily, to prove that too.”
The lawyer. If it hadn’t been for Barnes arriving when he did, I’d probably still be in lockup. Rooke set me up and then sent his lawyer to get me out.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
“And you—” The words catch in my throat. “You still went to him? Knowing what he’d done?”
“If I hadn’t gone to him, Kai, we’dbothbe in prison. Not just you. Me too.”
“How?” I yell. “How wouldyougo to prison? You didn’tdoanything!”
“Neither did you, asshole!” she shouts back. “Think I was going to take a chance and call his fucking bluff, Kai?”
We’re both silent now. Both breathing hard.
Angry, hurt,confusedprey boxed in by something smarter and stronger than both of us. And what happens when you back a scared animal into a corner?
It lashes out.
I search Haven’s face. Her eyelashes flutter as she searches mine.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I murmur, sliding my hands up her throat until my thumb is on her jaw and her head is tilted back.
The lull that follows feels too heavy. Too intimate. Like a radioactive wind cutting right through my clothes, my flesh, my bones.
