Gage
“You look so tense,” she cooed, and her syrupy voice only wound me tighter. My entire body stiffened, every muscle pulling taut like a bowstring ready to snap. She should’ve known better by now. She should’ve taken the warning signs seriously—the sharp looks, the clipped words, the way I angled myself away from her whenever she tried to get close. But Gabriella couldn’t help herself, could she? No, she had to keep pushing, keep poking at the edges until something inside me fractured.
My knife scraped against the porcelain plate, the sound sharp, grating, matching the way my jaw locked tighter. Every ounce of my strength was going into restraint—into not flipping the entire damn table and shoving her halfway across the lunch hut. The thought alone was dangerous, and I clenched harder
