"I'm fine," I say, pressing the cloth against my forearm.
He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't argue.
Instead, he steps closer, his hand moving toward my shoulder like he's going to lift me, carry me out of here.
I turn away.
"Stay away from me."
I start moving, one foot in front of the other, my dress dragging against the ground.
Blood drips from my forearm, leaving a trail behind me.
Octavian looks around and then follows, unsure of what to do.
I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to collapse, waiting for an excuse to touch me again.
We make it a few steps before I stop.
I can't hold it in anymore.
"Did you know?" I ask, my voice firm.
He doesn't answer right away, and that hesitation is everything.
It makes my stomach turn.
"Know what?" he finally says.
I turn to face him, and the look on his face says it all.
"This," I say, looking around. "All this. Them taking me?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that confirms everything.
My breath stutters, and I feel like I'm at the edge of the abyss.
"Say something!" I yell.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just silence. Guilt sits heavy on his face, and in that second, everything inside me cracks wide open.
I look at him, hoping, praying.
But he just stands there, his jaw working, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
And that's when I know.
He knew.
He fucking knew.
He reaches for me again, and I slap his hand away.
"Keira, I?—"
"Don't. Touch. Me."
