Clay's POV
The moment she stepped into the room, I felt her anger before I saw it. It rolled off her in waves, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the silence I’d wrapped myself in. I didn’t look up at first. I couldn’t.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew the second I met her eyes, she’d see everything I was trying to bury. And Amaya? She was the kind of woman who’d dig until she found every last piece of me.
The door clicked shut, the soft sound loud against the tension hanging between us. She moved closer, her presence filling the space. I felt her gaze on me, burning like the sun, unyielding and demanding.
“You’re awake,” she said, her voice softer than I expected.
I didn’t answer. What could I say? That every time I closed my eyes, I saw blood? That I heard t
