I ripped my hand away from the metal counter so fast my knuckles hit the edge of the sink.
The movement was violent, a frantic defense mechanism that finally shattered the silence of the early morning ward. I didn’t look at Roman. I couldn’t. My chest was heaving as if I had just swallowed glass, my heart hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs.
You weak, pathetic i***t, I screamed at myself, the self-loathing bubbling up in my throat like acid.
"Raina," Roman breathed, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that tried to chase me as I stepped back. He reached an arm out, his large hand hovering in the empty space where my skin had just been warming his. "Wait."
"Don't," I choked out, my voice a sharp, jagged edge. I grabbed my tray of empty vials, my fingers shaking so violent
