Page 95 of In the Dark

Yet, now I was laser focused on her in a way I hadn’t been, but in a way I should have been since she’d stepped foot into Paradise Grove.

I’d messed up. Normally, I’d mastered picking up on people’s motions, their tells, and their micro expressions. It was a way to read the room and become the person that would be needed right at that moment.

If my brother needed a mediator, I was a diplomat. If my syndicate needed a weapon or an executioner, I morphed into it. I was whatever the Diamonds needed me to be because value in our world came not just from being a weapon for them but knowing how to mask that as something else. I could mediate, I could negotiate, and I could manipulate and placate up until we needed me to annihilate.

It had served me well.

Except now, I was approaching a woman I knew I didn’t want to destroy. I just wanted her to be okay. But with Jasmina, the masks didn’t fit. I wasn’t sure which version of me she needed, so for the first time in my life, I defaulted to the one person I never let anyone see: myself.

And if I was being honest, myself was utterly obsessed with her and her well-being. I watched her with a clinical, desperate intensity. I could read her discomfort before it even registered on her face. I saw how she shrank under her cousins’ and aunt’s entitled requests. I saw how she went quiet when others in a room clamored for attention, and I saw how she stood tall only when she was provoked. Jasmina was a quiet force, a storm kept in a glass bottle, and seeing even a sliver of hurt on her face caused a visceral, violent reaction in me.

“Jasmina,” I barked way louder than I should have.

Everyone looked and quieted, their brows furrowing in judgment. Normally, I wasn’t the one yelling, but I wasn’t about to stay quiet when she was hurting.

“We’re leaving. Right. Now.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. She put a hand on her hip and popped it. “What? I just told you we’re playing a game here, and—”

“And now you’re done.” I walked back onto the middle of the court to stand at the net on her opponent’s side with my arms crossed. “Time to go.”

She didn’t hesitate to walk up to the net and practically spit, “I’ll go when I’m ready. You’re free to leave now.”

I sucked on my teeth before I reached out and lifted her chin gently. She let me, her eyes searching mine in question. “You’re in pain right now, Viper. I saw you wince. You either tell me right now, or you let me take you home. Which would you like it to be?”

Her eyes widened a fraction like she was shocked I’d seen it. But then she took a step back. “I’m fine, Callahan. It’s just a cramp.”

“Try again, Jas,” I said softly.

And she glanced away, stepped back, and cracked her neck.

She didn’t say anything to me at first as she went up to Mia and gave her a hug. Then, when she walked off toward the lockers, she yelled, “If you want to go so bad, Callahan, you better hurry up.”

She met me outside of the women’s lockers with a knitted sweater over her tank but that short skirt still on. She had her duffel over her shoulder, which I took immediately.

“I can carry my own bag.” She half-heartedly fought me on the way to the car.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not sure if it hurts you to do so now,” I said back, and she didn’t answer. Instead, I drove us home in silence, but the tension sizzled with unanswered questions. She wasn’t relaxed, her shoulders tense and her eyes on the window while her fingers tapped at her thigh.

When we got home, she waited for me to open her car door, but she didn’t say thank you. She walked toward her room like it was almost a death sentence, and when we got to the door, she turned to me. “I’m taking a shower.”

All so I could wait to hear what had actually happened to her? I shook my head. “I’m coming in that room before you shower, Jas. You’re telling me what’s wrong.”

Her gaze flicked to Archer and another man who was right outside her open door now as if she was weighing her options. I still had a guard on her at all times. Extra security for any reason, but mostly because I didn’t want to lose her.

“Whatever,” she grumbled as she walked in. I followed her, crossing my arms as I got passed the threshold. And, although the emotion coming from me was rare, I was suddenly very concerned with how wound tight she was.

She hadn’t just been hurt.

She was keeping more than just that secret, because otherwise she wouldn’t have looked as guilty as she did now. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why were you wincing on the court?”

Her immediate response: “Nothing is wrong. I told you—”

“You told me and you lied,” I said, my voice getting colder.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes, but with the way she crossed her arms, I knew there was more to the story.

So, I walked up to her fast and snatched at her sweater, yanking her toward me. “What’s wrong with you?”