Page 43 of Top Shelf

The questions churn. The anger climbs. And when it reaches a boil, I spin around.

“Why?” I demand, facing Ronan head-on, arms clamped on my hips, and my heels giving me an extra three inches of height.It makes my tiny five-foot-two frame not feel just so insignificant against his six-four.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even slow as he casually approaches.

“Why are you doing this? I told you to leave me alone!” I accuse.

Still, I get nothing back. No change in his expression. No tilt of his head. Just that cold, unreadable gaze.

“I’m serious!” I snap. “What is this? Some twisted game? Because I told you, I’m not interested in playing.”

I take a step toward him this time. My voice rises with each word, my composure slipping like sand through my fingers.

“You chased me my first week here. Lucian makes himself my project partner. Now you’re ensuring we’re working together? What’s next, huh? Silas going to show up at my apartment?”

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t speak.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I bite out. My chest is tight. I can feel the pressure climbing my throat, feel the burn of it rising behind my eyes.

But I’m not done.

“You’re doing this because of that night, aren’t you?” My voice wavers. “Because Iknow.”

That gets his attention. His steps slow. His eyes sharpen like knives. There’s something dangerous in the way he looks at me now—calculated, patient, like a predator studying a wounded animal. Like he’s waiting for me to come undone.

“Is that it?” I demand, putting fire behind my words. “You want to know if I told someone? What I remember?”

Now I’m unraveling, fast and messy and furious.

Because I do remember.

Not all of it. Not enough.

But enough to know they were there.

“You think you can scare me into remaining silent?” My laugh is sharp and humorless, just this side of unhinged sounding. “Newsflash, asshole. If I haven’t told anyone by now, I’m not going to.” I shake my head, disgust ripe in my voice as I spit out, “It’s not like anyone would believe me, anyway.”

Suddenly he’s in front of me, our faces inches apart. The air thickens with a static charge, like a storm about to break. I can feel the heat coming off him, the sheer size of him, the way his shadow swallows mine.

He backs me against the wall, his stone-mask expression bearing down on me. My heart hammers in my chest. Ronan doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t have to. He leans in just enough, pitching his voice low. “What is it youthinkyou remember from that night?”

He’s too calm. Too quiet against the fire raging inside of me. It’s the kind of quiet that comes as a warning, except I’m too far gone to heed it.

“Whatdo you remember?” he demands this time.

His voice scrapes across my nerves like flint. My breath stutters. Images flicker?—

Flashes of movement.

The sound of gravel.

Laughter that didn’t sound right.

Hands.

The burn of fear in my throat.

A voice, low and dangerous, saying something incoherent.