I caught his wrist before his fingers could finish the second button.
The motion was fast enough to feel reckless, but I did not let go. His hand stopped against my shirt, and for one long beat the room held still around us.
The air between us was tight enough to hurt.
“I don’t need that,” I said.
Bastián looked at my hand on his wrist, then at my face. “Then tell me why you are bleeding.”
I kept my grip light, not because I was gentle, but because I knew better than to make this into a fight I could not win. His eyes were sharp, fixed, and maddeningly calm, he looked ready to strip the truth out of me if it meant getting it.
I forced my breath steady. “A shard.”
His brow shifted a fraction. “A shard?”
“Yes.”
He said nothing, which was worse than arguing.
I swallowed once and li
