Kennedy’s voice broke through, tight and trembling. “Nick.”
Her hand clutched my arm—gentle, but laced with urgency.
That touch—only that—pulled me back from the edge.
Barely.
I let the handler go with a shove that nearly dropped him.
He stumbled, choking on his breath, trying to save face.
But his fear was loud enough to hum in the street.
And everyone had heard it.
Everyone had seen.
He called her used.
Tried to make her small.
Now he knew exactly what it cost to speak her name like that.
The city kept moving.
Cars passed. Pedestrians didn’t stop.
But in our world, everything else went still.
Jake looked stunned—wrecked.
And Kennedy?
She turned her back on him.
Just like that.
Turned.
And stepped into me instead.
Eyes on mine.
Stormy. Steady. Wide open.
That was it.
That was the moment.
She chose.
And I felt it—that weight slamming into my chest like a punch.
This wasn’t just rebellion anymore.
It wasn’t lust.
Or fury.
