“Iamcalm,” I snap, even though I know I’m not.
“No, you’re not.” His eyes narrow, and the look on his face I’ve seen too many times, it’s one which scares me. “And I know why. But this—this isnothow you handle it. I didn’t train you to be a damn wrecking ball.”
“Iknow,” I grit out, I know how the training went, it almost killed me. I remember the rules, I remember the way he'd make sure I remember them.
“We don’t attack unless they’re on the list, and you know that.”
“He was going tohurther.”
“I had two bouncers on him, and Lincoln was headed straight to Olivia. It would’ve been handled—without this bullshit.” The anger echoes in the office, and I hear Olivia behind us. She should not be in the office for this conversation, but it seems like Cain doesn't care.
I shake my head, jaw locked, unable to answer. I hear footsteps approach behind me.
“Do you guys… do you know each other?” Olivia’s voice is quiet, shaken.
Cain doesn’t look at her; his eyes stay on mine. “Hayden, do you want to answer that?”
I exhale sharply, staring at the ground.
“Cain Crawford,” I mutter, voice low. “He’s my cousin.”
I hear Olivia gasp behind me. Then her voice, cracking. “Mr. Cain, I… I’m going to have to hand in my notice, as of today.”
“What?” Cain’s head snaps toward her.
I turn around finally, just in time to see Olivia holding her hand, blood trailing down her wrist.
She cut herself and didn’t say anything.
“Wait, what the fuck is that?” I step toward her, eyes narrowing as I grab her wrist. “You’re bleeding.”
She tries to pull away, but I hold firm, inspecting her palm. A jagged shard of glass is still embedded in her hand.
“You’ve gotglassin your hand, Olivia. Why didn’t you say something?!”
“I… I didn’t think?—”
“You didn’tthink? Jesus Christ,” I snap.
Cain sighs. “Hayden, get her cleaned up.”
Wrapping a cloth from a nearby table around her hand gently, I move her out of the office. “Come on.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she follows. I don’t say a word as I lead her through the hallway and into the back room, away from the lights, the music, and the mess I just made. I needed this moment to think and calm down because the rage is still building inside me.
She’s quiet. Too quiet. I can hear her breathing behind me, short, and shallow, like she’s trying not to let it shake.
The door clicks shut behind us. I yank open the cabinet and find the first aid kit. Drop it on the table with a thud and take in a deep breath.
“Sit.” I don’t wait to see if she listens, I just pull a chair out for her, avoiding her eyes. I can’t look at her yet; I can’t answer the question she’s going to ask.
She doesn’t speak as she lowers herself into the chair, kneeling beside her I unfasten the napkin I wrapped around her hand, careful not to press too hard. It’s already soaked through with blood.
Her skin’s warm, and she's shaking a little. Of course she didn’t tell anyone she was hurt. Of course she thought she’d just keep working withglass in her goddamn handlike she has something to prove.
I grab the antiseptic and cotton, soaking it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
