Makayla’s breath came in slow, measured pulls. Not because she was calm, but because she had to be.
One wrong move.
One sharp inhale too many.
And she might not like the outcome.
Gino was watching her.
No—studying her.
She wasn’t used to this version of him.
The way his eyes trailed over her like he was cataloging every reaction. The way he stood, hands loose at his sides, not in a stance of attack but of control.
He had the upper hand, and they both knew it.
Makayla swallowed past the dryness in her throat. The cold from the stone floor seeped into her skin, but she didn’t shiver.
She would not let him see her shiver.
“…Why am I here?”
Gino didn’t answer right away.
That was the worst part.
The pause.
The patience.
Like she was playing into his hands by even asking.
Final
