Reed
Rayne got out of the car first, slamming the door harder than usual, his broad back stiff with barely-contained energy. I followed silently, not even bothering to speak. What was I supposed to say?
We stepped into the house. It felt too quiet—too cold. Like the walls were holding their breath.
Rayne walked straight to the bedroom, not even glancing back to see if I was following. I trailed after him like a shadow, every step echoing with dread.
When we got inside, he started stripping his jacket off, the muscles in his shoulders tight and twitching under his shirt. I stood near the door, fidgeting, twisting my fingers until the knuckles turned white. My stomach churned, something bitter and sharp rising up in me like bile.
I forced my voice out. “About what Amber’s lawyer said in
