The room goes very still.
Hawk’s grip on my hand tightens slightly.
For a moment he just looks at me.
Then he exhales slowly.
“He came into your house,” Hawk says quietly.
His voice is steady.
Calm.
“What happened to him is on him.”
My chest rises and falls unevenly.
So I did.
I killed someone.
The thought should feel heavier.
But right now all I feel is relief.
Because if I hadn’t—
I probably wouldn’t be here.
My eyes close briefly.
When I open them again, Hawk is still staring at me.
Like he’s memorizing my face.
His eyes look wrecked.
Red around the edges.
Like he’s been through hell.
And suddenly his grip on my hand tightens.
“I’m sorry.”
The words come out rough.
Quiet.
My brows knit slightly.
“What?”
His head drops for a second, his forehead nearly touching our joined hands.
“I should’ve answered,” he mutters hoarsely.
My heart stutters.
