If I stay here another minute I might cry.
Or scream.
Or throw something at Carmen’s perfect face.
I make it three steps before a hand clamps around my wrist.
Strong.
Familiar.
Diablo.
He pulls me back into him with a single motion, grip firm enough that escape isn’t happening unless I make a scene.
His voice drops low against my ear.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, mami?”
My skin prickles at the word. My stomach twists.
I spin toward him, fury burning hot enough to sting my eyes.
“Away from you,” I snap. “Away from this. Away from your ring and your queen.”
His jaw tightens.
“She’s not my queen.”
“She just announced your wedding like she owns you.”
His eyes flash, dangerous and dark.
“It’s politics.”
“It’s betrayal.”
The words leave my mouth sharper than I intend. The truth is uglier than the word.
He leans closer, voice tight with restraint.
“You don’t understand.”
I yank my wrist but his grip holds firm.
“Try explaining it then,” I demand. “Tell me why you can say that you fucking love me in private and stand there silent while she plans your wedding in front of everyone.”
His fingers tighten slightly around my wrist.
“Darling,” he warns.
My throat burns.
“I’m leaving,” I say. “You don’t get to keep doing this to me.”
For a moment he just stares at me like he’s fighting a war inside his own skull.
Then his expression hardens.
