LACEY
“There’s no gun,” I say, voice calm, smile stretched tight across my face. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
My fingers twitch, aching to hurt her in some way — something to make her feel a fraction of what she’s done to me.
Then I catch Liam’s look — worried, wary — and watch him press a kiss to Emilia’s palm before guiding her away. It douses the fire just enough to remind me I’m not completely unhinged. Not yet.
Still, it kills the high. Like someone switching off the music at a party just when the beat drops. Sanity — boring, exhausting sanity — pulls me back in before I get the satisfaction I want.
But I stay. I face her.
Céline’s eyes flicker. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of, and that’s enough. The fear is real. I can see it.
She tries to scoff, but her voice
