The alley behind the nightclub was cold and damp.
Bella's wrist still burned where Steven had brushed her scar. The pain had dragged her through years of memories in a single breath, but now the past fell away like a curtain. What remained was the man in front of her—tall, familiar, furious—and the quiet certainty that time had not made him kinder.
“Bella," he said again, as if saying her name could force the truth out of her. “What happened to you?"
She lifted her chin.
“What happened?" she repeated. “You really want to know?"
“Yes."
She gave him a cold smile. “You're looking at it."
His brows knit. “Stop speaking in riddles."
“Then stop acting like you're innocent."
Steven's pride rose immediately.
“I never intended to break up with you," he said. “I was angry, but you were the
