Page 338 of Scarlet Wars
She shifted on her feet, glanced at the floor, then back at me. “I just thought…maybe you shouldn’t be alone today.”
I let out a dry, bitter snort. “And me not being alone somehow translates to spending time withyou?”
I rose to my feet, my voice rising. “What, you think fighting one battle with us, tossing out some nostalgic bullshit I heard as a kid, is enough to make me forget everything you’ve done? That I’d welcome you with open arms?”
Her jaw tensed, but she held her ground. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve this level of hostility?—”
“No?” I cut her off, stepping closer. “Let me remind you.”
Her breath hitched, but I didn’t stop.
“You attacked my Collective. You launched a nuclear weapon at us, anuclear weapon, miss Sinclair. You killed seven Cycloschildren.”
“You then turned around and handed Maurice—or Gordon or whoever the hell that bastard was—the means to kill three more.You.” I pointed a finger at her chest. “You backed the man who bubbled the entire country, who marked Emma as a terrorist and gave the kill order that got her parents executed.”
Her face had gone pale. Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“You gave him the intel he needed to lure her to New York, helped him abduct me and Jackson Lau, who happens to be my best friend. Do you need me to go on?” I hissed. “Because I’ve got a hell of a longer list.”
I don’t know what I expected. If I’d spoken like that to Emma—or to any other woman, for that matter—I probably would’ve been slapped, yelled at, torn down with a dozen arguments or half-baked excuses.
But not Cara Sinclair.
No, she simply straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and met my fury with something far colder, and far more composed.
“And this is your opinion of me?” she asked dryly and unflinching. “By those calculations, my faults are indeed substantial, though hardly substantiated.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re quick to judge, Mister Walker. I only wish you were as quick to verify your facts.”
No hesitation. No retreat. She didn’t shrink from my accusations, didn’t stumble backward into some rehearsed apology.
She stood there, tall and sharp-edged, like she’d been forged in the same fire I was trying to avoid.
“If I’ve been misinformed,” I snarled through gritted teeth, “by all means, enlighten me.”
Cara didn’t flinch, no, she shook her head, her expression unreadable.
“I don’t think there’s much I can say right now that would matter to you,” she said quietly. “Not when you’ve already decided who I am.”
Her voice wasn’t pleading. It wasn’t defensive. Only calm. Steady.
“But if the day ever comes when youareready to listen,” she continued, “I’d be honored to tell you my side. To set some things straight.”
She paused, searching my face, not for approval, not for forgiveness. Just…a flicker of openness. Of possibility.
And damn her, because in that second, I almost gave it to her.
I should’ve slammed the door in her face, should not have entertained her. But instead, I took a step forward.
Then another.
Cara stayed perfectly still as I crossed the distance between us, her eyes tracking me the whole way. Watching, waiting. Her breath shallow, chest rising and falling like she wasn’t sure if this would end with a kiss or a knife.
Maybe I didn’t know either.
I stopped only a breath away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the fine lines of exhaustion at the corners of her eyes, the tiny scar below her jaw, one I hadn’t noticed before, though it felt vaguely familiar.
