It didn’t take long before Zander arrived.
I heard it before I saw him, the sound of the front door slamming open so hard it echoed through the house. Fast footsteps followed, uneven, rushed.
Panic crawled up my spine.
I lifted my head just as he appeared in the room.
There was blood on his shirt. Not splattered and not soaked. Just a dark stain around his wrist, smeared like he’d wiped his hand without thinking. My eyes locked onto it immediately. My stomach turned.
His eyes found me in the same second.
The look on his face—God. I’d never seen it like that before. Fear stripped bare. Worry sharp and raw, like he’d been holding it in and it finally cracked.
He opened his mouth.
I didn’t let him speak.
I pushed myself up and ran to him, my legs weak, barely carrying me. The moment
