Armani’s POV
I crashed my mouth against hers like I could force every jagged word she’d just screamed back down her throat. Like if I kissed her hard enough, deep enough, I could erase the way she’d said she wished she was ash. Erase the gun I’d thrown across the room. Erase the f*****g tears burning holes in my skin where they touched.
She bit me.
Hard.
Teeth sank into my bottom lip until copper flooded my tongue—sharp, metallic, real. Pain lanced straight through the haze of rage and hurt churning in my chest, and for one stupid second I almost smiled against her mouth.
Because she was still fighting.
Even now. Even pinned under me, sobbing, shaking, hating me with every fiber—she still had teeth.
I didn’t pull away.
I pressed harder instead. Let her taste the blood she drew. Let
