I'm thinking about Locke's face just before he walked out of Dad's office.
The rage. The exhaustion. The bruises Knox left on my arm. The way he'd looked at me after we'd argued, as though he was trying to choose between listening to me... and protecting me.
“I think I got it wrong.” I close my eyes for a second. “I don't think he left because he was angry.”
Mayhem frowns. “Then why?”
“Because that's who he is.”
He waits.
“When Locke can't solve a problem…” My voice breaks. “He disappears into it.”
Not with violence or shouting. With work, and questions, and evidence. That's how he fights. Unless…
The thoughts arrive so suddenly, they steal the air from my lungs:
Unless yesterday changed something. Unless seeing Knox put his hands on me again changed him.
My stomach twists.
“Wha
