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The anger in my voice was matched in hers—the way she grunted and complained as I tried to shut her out. That only served to make me fume more.Shewalked out onme,so what the fuck did she have to be angry about?

“What was Kelly doing here?”

I was no longer fighting the door, but I wasn’t letting her in, either, leaning against the wood as it rested on an angle about six inches from being closed while she pressed her face in the gap.

“What’s it to you?” I snapped. She thrust Kelly’s handbag through the gap, and I snatched at it as I asked, “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“Nothing. She dropped it, and I thought she might want it back.”

“Oh? She justhappenedto drop it near you? It wasn’t because you did something to her?”

“I only tried to talk to her.”

That edge was back to Ray’s voice, the one indicating she was fighting to keep her demon under control. Obviously, she had learned nothing about self-control without me. I’m certain Ray wouldn’t have killed Kelly, not only because of the rules but because there was still a bit of me hoping she had a shred of humanity and decency left inside her. That some part of the Ray I got to know still existed, even though she had done a full one-eighty when she had gone with Emrick’s goons.

“Nice little conversation, was it? Over some coffee and cake?” I asked.

“For fuck’s sake, Ilsa, I’m not in the mood for this shit. Let me in.”

“You walked out on me. Why should I let you in?”

“Why was Kelly here?”

“What’s it to you?” I spat back. “You have no stake over me. Why are you even here?”

She hesitated, and I could see her in my mind’s eye biting on her bottom lip. “Because you’re a badass, and you’re smoking hot.”

“Not good enough.”

“Because you’re my best friend?” Ray offered quietly, her inflection rising at the end of the sentence.

I couldn’t help snorting. “I’m your best friend?”

“Fine. You’re badass, you’re hot,andI like you.”

“Ray…”

“Fuck,Ilsa, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Grinning, I leaned my head against the door, glad she couldn’t see how much I was enjoying having the upper hand on her. I wanted to stretch this out. She deserved it for making me care for her then leaving the way she did. The pain was still thick in my chest, a throbbing reminder of how she had made me feel and what it felt to have that illusion ofusshattered. There was anger there. Of course, there was, and I was trying hard not to overthink how quickly my anger had evaporated as I heard the frustration in her voice when she realized I was messing with her.

She was my purpose.

Fuck.

So, I waited.

“You’re badass, you’re hot, and…” she took a shuddering breath, “… you’re a good person, Ilsa, and I don’t know how to do that. I am what I am, and I can’t change that, but Iwantto do better...” She paused. “You make me want to do better.”

The final words were delivered through gritted teeth, and I could hear the edge to them.

Slowly, I straightened, relinquishing my weight from the door and resistance to her trying to push her way into my apartment. But the door stayed as it was. She had stopped trying once I had moved and was no longer forcing her way into my apartment.

Or into my life.

I’m not a fool. I know how much it would’ve taken from her to not only come to the realization she did, but to say it out loud. It took a certain level of willpower not to laugh when I stood to the side and pulled the door open, watching her standing there on the threshold, jaw tense and eyes boring into mine.

Golden eyes, not yellow.