(Angel’s POV)
The night outside Howl at the Moon was cooler than it had any right to be. The air still hummed from the crowd’s cheers, from the music pounding through the timber walls, from the taste of whiskey still on my tongue.
Tones was already walking away, boots crunching gravel. His shoulders were set, rigid. He didn’t look back.
I jogged after him. “Tones, wait.”
He stopped by his bike, but didn’t turn. His voice, when it came, was rough. “Don’t. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
“It was just...”
He turned, eyes sharp and hurt. “Just what, Angel? A show? A game? You and Ojore in front of everyone, like nothing happened last week?”
I flinched, guilt tightening in my chest. "I didn’t mean to kiss him. It just—happened. The crowd. The fights. The drinks."
“You t
