Leila
Darren's voice cut through the din. It hit me like a lifeline.
He came. I knew he would. He'd drag me out of this gilded cage, away from Lucas and his leash. My cheeks burned at the thought, a flush I couldn't hide.
There he was, slouched in that leather jacket he never shed, like it was stitched to his soul. But something was off. The light maybe, or the way he carried himself - his usual swagger dulled, like a wolf with its fangs filed down. I stared, trying to pin it down, but it slipped away.
Lucas' eyes were on me then. Heavy. I felt them scrape over my face, peeling back the joy I couldn't mask when I saw Darren. His lips curved up, a smile sharp as a blade, but beneath it, I smelled the rot of his anger. Once, I'd have bent over backwards to soothe him, to knead that rage
