Page 349 of Bad Prince

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Both of us.

“I’m not a prize. I’m not a strategy. And I’m not unfinished business you get to circle back to when you feel like it.”

My chest tightens.

Isa’s full on crying now.

Quiet.

Shaky.

And Tristan?

He looks wrecked.

Torn.

His eyes move from Isa—to me—back to Isa.

Taking it in.

Processing.

Deciding.

Then he exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs.

His voice is quieter now.

But heavier.

“I’m not playing this.”

He looks at Isa first.

And there’s something there.

Real.

Regret.

Respect.

“You deserve honesty,” he says.

Her lips tremble.

She nods once.

Barely holding it together.

Then his gaze shifts.

To me.

And everything in my chest tightens.

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