Need to tell someone.
My mouth went dry.
Who?
Who was she afraid of?
I flipped to the last written page.
Nothing dramatic.
And beneath it:
If anything happens, this matters.
A chill crawled up my arms.
Anything happens?
A knock sounded at the door, making me jump so hard the notebook slipped from my lap and hit the floor.
For a split second, fear flashed.
Then logic caught up.
Kane.
Relief and irritation tangled together. I glanced at the clock.
Forty-eight minutes.
He was almost twenty minutes late.
Which meant …
He almost didn’t come.
That humiliating ache from earlier stirred again, sharper now.
I crossed the apartment, trying to compose my expression into something casual instead of wounded.
You don’t care.
You barely know him.
Still.
My hand hesitated on the door handle before I pulled it open.
Kane stood in the hallway, breath faintly visible in the cooler night air, jaw tight, hair slightly disheveled like he’d moved fast to get here.
And there—just beneath the streetlight glow?—
A fresh bruise darkened his knuckles.
His gaze found mine immediately.
Something in his expression softened.
