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I snatch them from him.

“You didn’t care about that when you were chasing me.”

“I’m not chasing you now.”

I look skyward. “This has to stop, Fionn.”

“You could have stopped it anytime.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You knew the word to cut me off, but you didn’t say it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I whisper.

Fionn steps into me and strokes a lock of hair away from my lashes, the touch too careful for the violence within him.

“Maybe you should ask yourself why the fuck you’re doing this to me. I have a wedding coming up. A family watching every move I make. A life plan already paid for in blood and signatures, and you’re—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “Forget it.”

His expression closes, all that heat gone behind an icy wall.

“You go ahead,” he says, voice deep as his gaze settles on the necklace at my throat. “I’ll keep my distance and let you walk inside first.”

He moves out of my way, grabs his jacket, and shrugs it on.

There’s nothing left to say.

No promises to make for a future we’ll never have.

So, I turn back to the wall, climb over it, and walk toward the house through the dark with the distinct sensation of his cum leaking onto my inner thigh and the knowledge he’s walking behind me.

By the time I reach the side door, guilt has its hands around my ribs.

I glance over my shoulder and see him waiting in shadow under a tree, almost blending into the night.

Taking a deep breath, I slip inside, padding barefoot through the narrow staff entrance.

The mirror above the little side table catches me in pieces. Hair tangled around my neck. Lipstick kissed away. Dress twisted, damp at the back. Feet dirty against the clean floor.

I look like exactly what I am.

My stomach turns.

I open the nearest door and find a small downstairs bathroom, locking myself inside before anyone can ask questions. The light pings on, highlighting every mark.

My hands shake as I wash them in hot water and move to my muddy feet. Using a wet towel, I scrub at the grass on my knees and blot the dampness on the back of my dress.

After a long, steadying breath, I trail my fingers through my hair and rub at my swollen lips. When I look in the mirror again, I don’t see someone who surrendered. I see a woman who let Fionn close enough to learn what she craves, but I learned something too.

I felt him lose control when my nails tore into him. Heard it in the way his breath broke. Felt it when he came for me, because of me, and right then, he had no control left to hide behind.

I unlock the bathroom door, check the hall is clear, and hurry up the stairs to change my dress.

The landing is empty, though music and voices still carry up from downstairs. I keep my head down as I move, one hand gripping the banister while the other holds the torn side of my dress in place.

Every step makes the damp fabric drag against my skin, every movement reminding me exactly why I need to switch dresses before I find Eilish and tell her the truth.

I reach her door, already reaching for the handle, then stop when I hear voices inside.

Eilish.

And a man.