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But I thought he respected me enough.

Liked me enough to try.

After all, he was the one who asked me to give him a chance, wasn’t he?

The thought cuts deeper than I expect it to.

I watch as Colt and Nick hold him back from coming to me. The other guys crowd around him too, trying to calm him down, though every few seconds, one of them glances in my direction with unmistakable concern.

Zayn’s eyes find mine, and something in his expression makes my stomach clench.

I can’t look at him for more than a second.

“I think we should step outside for a bit,” Ethan suddenly says.

His voice pulls me out of the trance I’ve been trapped in.

Deep but calm, it gives me the rush I need to finally move.

“I need to leave,” I whisper, tearing myself out of Thalia’s arms and heading for the exit.

My legs feel unsteady, but I force them forward, one step after another, desperate to put as much distance between myself and this room as possible.

I barely make it to the door before a hand wraps around my arm.

I jolt violently, panic flashing through me, my heart kicking hard against my ribs, until I realize it’s Ethan.

“Selene,” he says firmly, “you can leave whenever you want and go wherever you want, but I’m driving you.”

Ready to argue, I part my lips to protest, only for the look on his face to silence me before I can say anything.

“Please,” he adds when he realizes I won’t speak. “I need to know you’re fine.”

His words make me laugh.

A loud, bitter, broken sound escapes me, so painfully at odds with what he means that it almost hurts more than crying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer. “I’m doing great.”

The tears streaming down my face expose the lie immediately.

Ethan doesn’t comment on it. He simply leads me into the garage toward one of his cars, opens the passenger door, and helps me inside, fastening my seatbelt for me.

“I want to go to the airport,” I tell him the moment he gets in beside me.

“Selene…” he starts carefully, but I cut him off.

“I don’t want to stay in London, Ethan.”

“I just want you to calm down before making any decisions,” he explains, his tone softer now. “You’re not in a state to travel alone, and I’m worried about you.”

Trying to wipe away my tears, I turn to face him.

“I’m not in a state that allows me to stay here either, Ethan. Please.”

I can tell he wants to argue more—wants to win the argument the way he usually does—but I don’t let him speak.

“I can’t stay here, I can’t…” Whatever control I have left finally snaps, because now I’m crying for real, the tears coming so hard that I can’t catch my breath. “I can’t, Ethan.”