Anna sat three steps down with her arms wrapped around herself. The stairwell lighting was dim and gray. Cold concrete walls. Faint smell of dust and metal.
A hiding place. I understood immediately why she’d chosen it. Somewhere small. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere nobody would look at her.
She looked up when the door opened. The second her eyes landed on me, relief crossed her face so quickly it nearly undid me.
I sat beside her without speaking. For a minute neither of us said anything. I could hear her breathing unevenly.
"What happened?" she asked finally.
"I found him."
Her fingers clenched around her sleeves. "And?"
"I didn’t hit him."
A shaky breath left her.
I glanced sideways. "You thought I would."
"You looked like you wanted to."
"I did." Honesty felt easier with her than anyone else. "I still do."
She stared down at her hands.
"What did he say?"
"The same things men like him always say." My voice stayed flat. "That you’re manipulative. Emotional. A liar."
Her face crumpled. The words still hurt even after hearing them too many times.
A hollow laugh escaped her. "Sounds familiar."
"I didn’t believe him."
"I know."
The certainty in her voice surprised me. I looked at her fully then.
"You know?" I asked.
"Yes." She swallowed hard. "Because if you believed him, you wouldn’t be here."
Something in my chest pulled painfully deep.
I looked down at her wrist again. The bruise had darkened further while we talked. Anger surged back so hard I had to force my jaw to unclench.
Carefully, I reached for her hands. Her fingers were cold. I untangled them slowly and held them between mine.
"He’s off the project. I'll make sure of that," I said.
Her head snapped toward me. "Jace?—"
"I don’t care what it costs."
"He’ll fight you."
"I hope he does."
