My entire body goes rigid.
Every muscle.
Every nerve.
“Like she was always supposed to,” he spits.
Rage explodes inside me.
White-hot.
Blinding.
“You’re fucking insane,” I growl.
“Am I?” he snaps back, something cracking through that fake calm of his. “Or am I the only one who saw her for what she really is?”
“She’s not yours,” I fire back, my voice low, dangerous.
He thinks it’s the wrong answer.
I see it the second I say it.
His expression shifts.
Twists.
Ugly.
But it is the ONLY answer.
“She is,” he hisses. “She just forgot.”
No.
“No, she didn’t forget. She never belonged to you, Paul.”
Movement behind me.
The bathroom door.
My heart slams.
Esme.
Fuck.
I shift instantly.
Step back.
Position.
Put myself between her and him without even thinking about it.
Because that’s instinct.
That’s mine.
