I stopped myself.
Bit down on the words.
Because that wasn’t something I could say. Not now. Not like this. Not with Lyra still standing upstairs, barely able to breathe.
“You’re still angry,” Camilla muttered, brushing herself off like she wasn’t the one who blew her last chance at dignity.
“Angry?” I laughed once, sharp and dry.
“I’m out now, Damon. I’m clean.”
“f**k,” she added, her voice cracking as her heels clicked against the floor behind me. “I missed you. I missed you so f*****g much.”
I didn’t speak. I stood there, breathing through clenched teeth, trying to control the violent pulse hammering through my veins. My hands were already balled into fists. My jaw locked so tight I could hear it creak.
I heard her footsteps behind me before I felt her.
She came closer. Slowly.
