73
Havoc
No one talks to me like that.
No one.
But she does.
And the worst part?
She’s right.
I stare at her.
At the anger.
The fear.
The way her hands are still on me like she doesn’t know how to let go.
“You think I don’t know that?” I ask.
“Then act like it,” she fires back.
“You think this is a choice?” My voice is rough now. “You think I want you anywhere near this?”
“I’m already in it,” she says.
And that—
That lands.
Because she is.
Because this isn’t just my fight anymore.
It’s hers.
Dylan’s.
Grandpa’s.
I look away.
Run a hand through my hair.
“This can’t happen,” I say again.
But it sounds weaker now.
Less certain.
“Then why does it feel like it already has?” she asks.
That hits.
Hard.