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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.