I stare at the metal door like it just personally insulted my ancestors.
Oh. My. God.
I whirl around and march straight toward Corso’s container, banging on the door and waiting a second before pounding again when there’s no answer—but there’s still nothing, which is just typical.
Next I check Tank’s, but his door doesn’t even twitch and there’s no movement inside, which is hilarious considering the guy is built like a walking war crime and apparently still terrified of Rafe Scalzi’s dick.
Cowards. All of them.
By the time I drag my feral, sex-starved, dopamine-deprived ass back toward Kai’s container, I’m half ready to throw myself into traffic.
And of course—of course—Kai is alreadythere.
He’s leaning against the frame of his open door like he knew I’d come crawling the second my tantrum finished short-circuiting the compound, arms crossed, shirt too crisp, expression far too smug.
That fucking smirk.
I stop a few feet away and narrow my eyes at him before glaring hard enough to burn holes through his skull. “You told them,” I accuse, my voice low, scratchy, and tipped with venom.
Kai’s smile widens slowly, satisfied in a way that makes me want to bite something.
“Of course I did,” he says.
The bastard.
“Have you decided to forfeit?” Kai asks, the smirk still sitting sharp on his mouth, his voice low and casual like he’s asking whether I’m finally ready to lie down and behave.
My vision goes red—not just because of the tone, or the implication, or the fact that he’s standing there like the entire compound hasn’t turned into a fortress ofNo One Will Touch You, Julian, Because Rafe Will Peel The Skin From Our Bones—but because he likes this.
He’s enjoying it.
Watching me crack open. Watching me spiral. Watching me need something I can’t have while I snap at everyone around me like it might somehow fill the void clawing at my ribs.
I glare harder, wanting to hit him, or bite him, or scream until the walls shake.
Instead I say, low and guttural and mean, “I decided to be a problem for everyone.”
Then I launch myself at him.
There’s no warning, no grace, no finesse—just a full-body lunge with my hands clawing at his shirt, teeth bared, a snarl ripping up my throat like I’ve finally crossed the line into something feral.
Kai catches me with a grunt, his back slamming into the container door, but I’ve already got fists twisted in his collar, trying to shove him—or climb him—I don’t even know anymore. I just know I want to fight, I want to be hit, I want to be held down and wrecked. I want noise, I want touch, I want Rafe—but he’s not here, and I’m losing my mind while Kai stands there smiling like I’m his favorite science experiment.
“You’re not very good at being subtle,” he murmurs, one hand catching my wrist before I can land a punch that probably would’ve glanced off his jaw anyway.
“I’m not trying to be subtle,” I growl, breathing hard in his face. “I’m trying to bleed.”
Kai tilts his head, completely unbothered.
I hate it.
“And you think I’ll make you bleed?” he asks mildly.
“I think you’re the only one left who hasn’t slammed a door in my face this week,” I spit.
He smiles wider.
Fucker.
