“And if it’s not?”
I don’t answer. Because if it’s not?—
There’s only one other option. And I’m not ready to say that out loud.
By the time I make it back to the garage, the place is quiet. Too quiet. The overhead lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor, tools hanging in neat rows along the walls. It’s always been a place of control. Order.
Something I can fix. Something I understand. Unlike this. I grab a rag and start wiping down the nearest workbench, even though it’s already clean.
Busy hands. Quiet mind. Doesn’t work. Felix’s voice keeps creeping back in.
Pretty little human.
My grip tightens on the rag until my knuckles ache. If he even gets close to her again?—
No. Focus. Anger won’t help her. Strategy will. I force myself to think it through. What do they know? Not much. Not yet. A name. A connection. Suspicion. That’s all. Which means I still have time to control the damage. But only if I act fast. Only if I stop giving them anything else to work with.
That means no more visible interest. No more proximity. No more?—
Her. The thought lands heavy. I drop the rag onto the counter, bracing both hands against the edge. This is the part no one talks about. The part where doing the right thing feels like tearing something out of your chest and pretending you don’t need it.
I laugh under my breath.
“Great plan,” I mutter. “Real solid.”
Because it’s going to hurt. I already know that. And not just me. Tessa’s not going to understand. She’s going to push. Demand answers. Call me out. And I’m going to have to stand there and let her think the worst of me. Let her believe I’m cold. Controlling. Unpredictable. Anything?—
As long as she stays alive.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been standing there until the sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up as Mason walks in, keys jingling in his hand.
“Thought I saw your truck,” he says. “Figured you’d still be here.”
“Yeah.”
He studies me for a second. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Rough night?”
I hesitate.
Then nod. “Something like that.”
Mason leans against the workbench, crossing his arms. “You want to elaborate, or are we doing the strong silent thing?”
“Rogue crossed into territory,” I say.
That’s enough to get his attention.
“Handled?”
“For now.”
Mason’s expression darkens. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
