SOPHIA
The coffee I spilled is still dripping off the counter onto the floor. I should clean it up. Can't make myself move.
Alcyde stands on the other side of the kitchen island like he's waiting for a firing squad. Shirtless from training, bruises all over his ribs from Billy Joe's fists, and that look on his face—the one that says whatever's coming is gonna hurt.
"Talk." I don't bother making it nice. "Whatever you've been hiding, spit it out."
His knuckles go white on the counter's edge. Through the bond, guilt pours off him so strong I can almost taste it. Burnt coffee and something rotten underneath.
"Allura." He says her name like it's poison. "She's been getting into my dreams. Three nights now."
My stomach drops, but I keep my face still. Learned that trick young—never let th
