“It’s funny,” she says, voice tight. “You talk about my father like he’s the only one who uses people as tools. But you invited me here *exactly* because you thought you could use me. Do you think you’re any better?”
“No,” he says. “I think I’m honest about it.”
“That doesn’t make you noble,” she says.
“I never claimed to be,” he says.
Their gazes lock.
The silence is its own argument.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Cass, probably. Or Riley. Or Leo.
She ignores it.
“I don’t trust you,” she says.
“Good,” he says. “I don’t trust you either.”
“Then why are we here?” she demands.
“Because,” he says, stepping closer again, “we want the same man broken. And because the part of me that doesn’t trust you wants to see whether you’ll choose your father, your ghost in Queens… or me.”
Her
