Her words hit me like a fist to the chest.
I freeze, the sting of her remark spreading like venom through my veins. The room feels smaller like the walls are closing in, and for a moment, I forget the blood trickling from my nose or the bruises blossoming on my neck. Rhys, The ghost she dares to mention.
I try to laugh, try to play it off, but my throat tightens, and the sound gets caught somewhere between a cough and a snarl.
"You don't get to talk about him," I say, my voice sharp, brittle, and trembling at the edges.
Lia tilts her head, and I see her falter. Her jaw slackens like maybe she didn't mean to throw that punch like maybe she regrets it. But it's too late. The damage is done.
"I just... ah!..." She tries to speak but forgets about it.
