Zara’s POV
I pulled my hand free from Atlas as if his touch burned me. My chest tightened, air slicing in and out like I’d been sprinting laps.
“Zara?” His voice was soft, questioning, almost desperate. “What’s wrong? Did I say something? Did I—”
“Don’t.” My voice was sharper than I intended. Too raw. I forced the words out before he could try to close the space again. “Don’t… don’t touch me.”
His mouth opened, then closed, jaw clenching. A flash of hurt crossed his face, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. Not with my heart hammering like a war drum and my mind screaming that I’d seen the worst I could ever imagine..
I turned away, walking fast. Not running—running would look like fear, and I refused to give him that—but fast enough that the air sliced across my face, cooling the heat pri
