Page 145 of Terms of Exposure

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Emma looked between us, fear tightening her features.

"He'll be fine," Damien said quietly.

"Oh god." My breath stuttered. "Garrett… he'll be so mad. You don't understand—if he thinks I—"

Emma moved closer. "Candace, he showed up screaming at your door. He reached for you. Damien didn't—"

"I KNOW what he did!"

The shout tore out of me—jagged and wrong.

Emma flinched.

So did I.

Silence pressed down, thick and suffocating.

Damien shifted. "The police are downstairs. They took my statement. They asked if you wanted to give yours."

No.

No, no, no.

"I'm not talking to them," I said too fast. "Absolutely not."

"Candace—"

"No." My pulse roared. "If he thinks I called them—if he thinks I cooperated—he'll come back. He'll do worse."

Damien's hands curled at his sides. "He's already done worse."

"No, you don't understand he'll—"

Emma knelt in front of me, steady and gentle. "Candace… he nearly shoved his way into your home tonight. Protecting him won't change him."

"He wasn't going to hurt me this time," I insisted, even though the words tasted like glass. "He just wanted to talk. He gets like that."

"We can't take that risk," Emma murmured.

I fisted my hair. "I shouldn't have answered the door. I shouldn't have met him for dinner. I shouldn't have—"

"No." Her voice sharpened. "You don't get to carry his violence."

My throat closed. "Someone has to."

Damien inhaled sharply, the sound loud despite the roaring in my ears.

Emma reached for my hand. I pulled away.

"You don't understand," I said again, closing my eyes. "He'll blame me. He always blames me."

Chapter thirty-six

Emma

Candace folded in on herself. A marionette with cut strings.

"Hey, look at me." I reached for her.

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