Ayla's POV
The door didn't close as hard as I wanted it to.
That somehow made it worse.
I slid down it until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing while my heart hammered and my face burned. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, and I hated that — hated that one argument downstairs could reduce me to this. Hated that my first instinct was still to run even when I had nowhere better to go.
"You didn't run," Tala said.
"I absolutely ran," I snapped.
"You retreated strategically."
"That's the same thing."
"It's debatable," she said, entirely unbothered by my tone.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and stayed there, breathing.
The bond was pulsing in three directions at once—tangled, raw, and aching in a way I didn't have language for. I could feel all of
