"Why don't we face the fact, Itzy?" Paige pointed, her voice firm. "That your inferiority complex is eating you up? You're pathetic."
Itzel's eyes blazed with anger, her face contorted in rage. She took a step forward, her hand raised, ready to strike Paige. The team gasped, their eyes fixed on the drama unfolding before them, some looked away, uncomfortable with the tension, while others watched with rapt attention. But before she could make contact, someone grasped Itzel's wrist.
Their gazes immediately diverted to the intruder. "That's enough, Itzel," he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers.
"Clinton, let me go!" Itzel spat, trying to wriggle free.
But Clinton held firm, his grip gentle but unyielding. Without hesitation, he dragged her away.
