Font Size:
This.
Us.
Lord, I am asking for clarity.
Not… this.
I push up onto my elbows as he rolls off me, and for a second—
Just one—
I miss the weight of him.
Absolutely not.
Nope.
We are not doing that.
I sit up fast, putting space between us.
Breathing.
Thinking.
Reset.
Focus.
“They brought a sniper,” I say. “That means they’re done playing.”
“They were done playing the second you let yourself get taken,” he shoots back.
I glare at him.
“I had a plan.”
“You had a death wish.”
“I had control.”
“You had luck.”
Oh.
Oh, he did not.
I step toward him.
“Excuse me?”
He doesn’t move.
Of course he doesn’t.
“You walked straight into a kill zone,” he says. “That’s not control, Mila.”
I laugh once.
