The silence between them was too loud, filled with unspoken accusations and raw, conflicting emotions.
Xander finally spoke, his voice too casual, too nonchalant, a deliberate attempt to diffuse the volatile situation. “I gave her the shirt.”
Kyson’s head snapped toward him, his nostrils flaring, his golden eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “That’s my shirt.”
Xander shrugged, a picture of studied indifference. “I know.”
The silence shattered under the weight of that single, deliberate answer.
He did it on purpose. He wanted to provoke Kyson. He wanted to see how he’d react. Kyson turned back to Lyra, something darker flickering behind his eyes, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and a wounded pride.
And Lyra—gasping for air, her throat raw, blinking through the tears that streamed dow
