Amy’s POV
The evening air is cool as I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles pale from the pressure. The city lights blur past my windshield, but all I see is that damn file Chad left on my desk — those images, those reports, that night.
My chest burns with anger and grief. My past is a wound I’ve stitched up long ago, one I never wanted to reopen. Now, thanks to Chad, it’s gaping and raw, bleeding all over again.
“That bastard,” I hiss under my breath, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. My eyes sting, but I refuse to let the tears fall — not yet.
By the time I pull up to the house, my head is pounding. I climb out of the car, taking deep, steady breaths. I need to pull myself together before seeing Kael. He reads me too easily, and the last thing I want is for him to suspect
