Page 38

Then Brando shows up in the early morning. And I know the storm’s coming before he even gets to the building.
Part of me wants to charge across the street and shove himback into his car. The other part knows I’m the reason Maxine needed reinforcements in the first place.
They’re up there for maybe forty minutes.
Then Mia and Tayana come down with Brando. None of the three look happy, and from where I’m sitting covertly across the road, it looks like Brando is muttering curses as his long legs carry him to his car.
Maxine’s alone again. I wait a few minutes, then I get out of the car. My feet move on autopilot. Each step toward her door feels like it’s laced with guilt and history. I don’t know what I’m doing. What I expect to say. I just know that I can’t keep watching her from the sidelines. Not when she looks like she’s slowly peeling herself apart just to survive.
I lift my hand to knock.
And the door explodes open before I can.
She barrels into me, gym bag slung over her shoulder, keys in hand—and freezes like she just ran into a wall. Which, I guess, I am.
I forget how to breathe. She’s wearing black tights that hug every inch of her like they were painted on, a cropped gym top that shows off the curve of her waist and just enough of her stomach to make my thoughts go sideways. There’s a zip-up jacket hanging open, barely clinging to her shoulders, fluttering behind her like wings she doesn’t know she has.
Her blond hair’s yanked up in a messy ponytail, strands slipping free and framing her face like they’re trying to remind me she’s not just beautiful—she’s real.Her cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, but from fire. Rage. Or maybe it’s the heat between us that only I seem to feel right now.
She’s lithe, lean, and deadly in her own quiet way—and her body moves like it remembers what survival costs. Like she trained in pain and came out stronger, sharper. And when her eyes meet mine, blazing with fury and fear and something Ican't touch without bleeding? I’m ruined. Because I don’t just want her. I’m in awe of her. She takes my breath like a thief, and I don’t even want it back.
Maxine’s breath catches. Her eyes widen, and then narrow like a blade.
“What thefuckare you doing here?” she snaps.
I open my mouth, but I don’t get a word in.
“No. No, you don’t get to do this,” she hisses. “You don’t get to lurk outside like a ghost and show up at my door like this whenever you want.”
“I just wanted to check on you.”
“I don’twantyou to check on me!”
She steps forward, jabs her finger into my chest.
“You don’t get to disappear for months, let me think I imagined you, then show up the minute I start breathing again.”
“Maxine—”
“No!” Her voice breaks. “I’m trying tostay sane. You showing up? You undo that. Every second you’re near me, I feel like I’m slipping back into that fucking castle. Into that room. Into who I was.”
I clench my fists at my sides.
“I was trying to protect you,” I say. “You think leaving you there didn’t kill me?”
“I don’tcarewhat killed you,” she spits, voice trembling. “I care what nearly killedme.”
I flinch. Because it’s true.
Her eyes are wild. Red-rimmed. Beautiful even in fury. And I hate myself for noticing. For wanting every single little broken piece of her.
“I was doing okay,” she whispers, quieter now, the rage cracking just slightly. “And then I saw you. And everything I fought to bury clawed its way back.”
I take a step closer. She puts a hand on my chest and shoves. Not hard. But enough to hold me back.
“Don’t come back here, Saxon. Don’t watch me from a distance. Don’t hover. Don’t care about me unless you’re willing to stay and clean up the mess you made.”
Her voice is pure venom now.