“Stop,” she says quietly.
“I’m not?—”
“You are,” she cuts in, her eyes locked on mine. “And this isn’t the way.”
My chest is tight. My hands are fists. Every part of me is still leaning toward Wren because this conversation isn’t finished.
Not even close.
“He’s—”
“I know,” she says softly. “I know.”
That’s the problem. She does know, and she’s still standing here, choosing calm. Choosing control. Choosing something better than whatever the hell I was about to do.
Her grip tightens slightly on my arm.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “Please.”
I exhale hard, dragging a hand down my face, forcing myself to step back.
Wren adjusts his cuff, acting as if this was mildly unpleasant but ultimately beneath him.
I look at him one more time. “Stay away from us.”
He smirks. “I’m simply doing my job.”
Yeah.
I bet you are.
Aurora doesn’t let go of my arm until we’ve put a solid amount of space between him and us.
Only then does she turn to me fully.
“That wasn’t going to end well.”
“No,” I agree. “Probably not.”
She studies me, searching my face, trying to figure out how far gone I was. “You can’t go at him like that.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“You were,” she says gently. “You were angry.”
“Iamangry.”
“Me too.”
That shuts me up faster than anything else could.
“But that’s exactly why you can’t do that,” she continues. “That’s what he wants. A reaction. Something he can use.”
I hate that she’s right.
I hate it so much.
I look away, jaw tight. “He doesn’t get to just walk around like nothing’s happening.”
