Thorne.
“Luca…” I drawled his name, the syllable stretching like a taut wire as I watched him trail behind Mia, his steps measured but his shoulders tense.
He wasn’t going to acknowledge me, not really—his eyes flicked my way for a fraction of a second, but the smile that followed didn’t reach them, cold and forced, like he was biting back words he didn’t want to waste on me.
He looked back then, stopping short, that forced grin fading into something sharper, more guarded.
I knew Luca well enough to read the undercurrent—anger simmering just below the surface, the kind that made conversations feel like walking on broken glass.
He wasn’t in the mood to chat, not with me, not now. But I couldn’t let him just walk off with her.
“How have you been coping?” I asked, stepping in front o
