I never thought I'd have to talk about it. Not again. Not after all this time. Five years of shoving it into the deepest, darkest part of my mind, locking it away, and praying it would stay there. But one question from Luca, one stupid, innocent-sounding question, and suddenly the lock snaps clean off.
"What happened to you, Quinn?" he'd asked, voice low but sharp like a blade pressed to my skin.
I didn't answer right away. Couldn't. My fingers dug into the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me upright. I focused on the grain of the wood, tracing every line and ridge with my eyes, desperate for something to ground me. But that question... it echoed in my head, louder, louder, until it drowned out every other thought.
What happened to you?
"Quinn," Trinity's voice slid into my mind, her tone tight with concern. "What's going on? Why do I feel... anxious? Sad? It's not me. It's you. What's wrong?"
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. I didn't want her in here. Not now. Not with this. But she was too deep in the bond, feeling everything, every twisted, gut-wrenching tangle of emotions clawing their way to the surface.
"Don't, Trinity. Just don't." My mental voice was frayed, like an old rope pulled too tight.
"You're remembering, aren't you?" Trinity's voice was so gentle it made my throat tighten. "Quinn, you have to tell him. You should tell him. Make him understand."
"No!" The word ripped out of me before I could stop it. Out loud. Loud enough to make every head in the café turn our way. It echoed off the walls, sharp and raw, like it had been ripped from my chest.
Silence crashed over the room like a tidal wave. People stared, their conversations cut short. A barista dropped a cup behind the counter, the shatter pulling me back to reality, but it was too late. I could feel the heat of their stares pressing down on me.
"Quinn?" Luca's voice came from right in front of me. He was leaning forward now, elbows on the table, head tilted, watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "What the hell was that?"
"I—" My throat felt tight, words lodged in the back of it. I could feel the burn behind my eyes, the ache that comes right before you cry, but I forced it down. I would not cry here. Not now. Not in front of him.
"Quinn," he said again, more insistent this time. His eyes were locked on mine, sharp and unyielding, the way only Luca could be. "What happened to you?"
Don't break, don't break, don't break.
"Nothing." My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was the best I could manage. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Nothing happened. I'm fine."
"You're lying," he said without hesitation. Of course he knew. He always knew. "I know you, Quinn. You're not fine. You're the exact opposite of fine."
"Just drop it," I said, voice firmer this time. I glanced at the people still staring and shot them a glare sharp enough to cut glass. They got the message and slowly turned back to their conversations. "We're supposed to be talking about venues, right? Let's do that."
"No." His voice had that low, dangerous edge, like a warning growl just before a wolf strikes. "Forget the venues. Forget the wedding. You're gonna tell me what happened."
I shook my head, curling my fingers tighter around the edge of the table. "Luca, please. Just... not here. Not now."
His eyes scanned my face, taking in every crack I'd tried to cover up. The slight tremble in my hands. The uneven breaths. The way my eyes wouldn't meet his for more than two seconds.
"Quinn," he said slowly, voice rough but steady. "Oh my God, what happened to you?"
I hated that question. I hated it with every part of me because it was too big, too heavy, and I didn't have the strength to lift it. But it sat there, waiting, like a weight on my chest.
He leaned forward, hands pressed flat against the table, eyes boring into mine with so much intensity I almost flinched. "Who did this to you?"
I shook my head again, faster this time. "It's not like that. You don't understand."
"Then make me understand!" His voice rose, sharp as a whip crack. He pushed himself out of his chair so fast it nearly tipped over. His chest was heaving, muscles tense, his gaze darting like he was searching the room for someone to fight. "Tell me who hurt you, Quinn. Tell me right now."
"Stop," I said, my voice louder, desperate. I reached out and grabbed his arm, fingers curling tight around his wrist. "Luca, stop. Just sit down. Please."
He froze, looking down at where my hand clutched his wrist. His breathing was shallow, fast, but after a moment, he sat. Slowly. Like he didn't want to but was giving me this one chance to explain before he lost it completely.
I loosened my grip on him but didn't let go. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. My palms were clammy, my throat dry. "There's more going on than you know," I said quietly, eyes locked on the table. "Things you don't understand."
"Then help me understand," he said, leaning forward, his face close to mine now. His voice wasn't angry anymore. It was rough, soft, like he was afraid to scare me away. "Tell me, Quinn."
I shook my head one last time, my nails digging into the edge of the table so hard it hurt. "If I tell you, it's over. Everything changes."
His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening like he was barely holding himself together. "If you don't tell me, I'll call off this whole thing. No wedding, no deals, nothing. I'll hunt down Cale myself if I have to."
My heart stopped. He couldn't. He couldn't. My breath hitched, and I finally looked up at him, really looked at him. His eyes were wild, unyielding, dead serious.
"Don't do that," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Luca. Don't."
"Then tell me." His eyes softened, but his grip on me didn't. He wasn't going to let me go this time. "Tell me, Quinn. All of it. Right now."
The weight in my chest doubled, tripled. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. I could feel Trinity buzzing in the back of my mind, a pulse of warmth and fear and urgency.
"Do it," she whispered. "Tell him. You've carried it alone for too long, Q. Let it out."
I sucked in a slow, shallow breath, then let it out just as slow. I could feel his eyes on me, could hear the steady beat of his heart in the silence between us.
I glanced at the door, wondering if I could make it there before he caught me. But I knew I wouldn't. And I knew I was tired of running.
So I gripped the table tighter, planted my feet, and took one more breath, deeper this time. The words tasted bitter before I even spoke them, like poison in my mouth.
"Okay," I said, voice steadier than I expected. I looked him dead in the eye, ready to burn it all down. "You want to know what happened? Fine. I'll tell you."