Vance's Point of View
Flynn was just about to turn and walk out, her back straight, her expression cool as ice, when my hand shot out and gripped her wrist. She froze, her breath catching slightly at the contact, and I could feel the subtle tension in her body. She was on the edge, ready to retreat, but I wasn’t done yet. Not when everything inside me felt like it was coming apart.
“Hey,” I said, my voice low, but with an edge that betrayed my nerves. “Can we talk?”
She didn’t immediately respond. Her eyes locked onto mine, cold and calculating, but there was something more behind that steel wall. I could see the way her pulse quickened at the edge of her throat, the slight shift of her stance, as if she was debating whether to pull away or stay.
I didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. N
