The heat inside me built like a raging storm, ready to shatter. My chest heaved, my breathing haggard and uneven as I stared at Dontrell. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. Elias? He was coming to stay?
The words rang in my ears like a cruel joke. A dizzying rush of fury and disbelief crashed through me, I began to boil.
I pushed Dontrell—hard—my hands slamming into his chest. But the impact didn’t move him. He barely shifted. He just stood there, rigid, his towering frame unshaken. That only made me angrier. I jumped off the table, the wooden edge scraping against my thighs as I landed beside him. Hate brewing in me.
I turned on my heel to leave, but his grip caught me fast.
“Let me go,” I snapped, jerking against his grip, slapping at his hand with my free on
