KENDRA
I walked through the foyer and into the living area without turning on any additional lights. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the chandelier in the hall behind me and the faint flames from the fireplace. My reflection shimmered faintly in the large glass windows—arms folded, jaw clenched.
Pascal stepped into the living room a moment later. He closed the door softly behind him. “Kendra.”
I didn’t respond.
He tried again. “We need to talk.”
“I’m not interested in another lecture tonight,” I said, my voice calm but tight.
He paused a few feet away, eyes steady on me. “It wasn’t a lecture.”
“Felt like one.”
“It was a warning.”
I let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “Right. Because I’m incapable of thinking beyond emotion?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what are
