Reginald's POV
Something's off with Fiona, and I can feel it in my bones. I keep catching her in my peripheral vision, but every time I try to meet her eyes, she looks away. What the hell is going on?
This isn't right.
When we stop for lunch and some much-needed rest, I drag Fiona aside. We need to talk.
"Don't even think about feeding me some bullshit line that nothing's wrong. Something's completely fucked up here. What is it?"
I narrow my eyes, searching her face for any crack in that stone-cold mask she's wearing. But she gives me nothing.
"Nothing's wrong."
I slam my hands against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. Her breath hitches slightly, and I lean in close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes.
"I already told you—don't lie to me. Don't say there's nothing when it's written all over your face. You're going to tell me what the fuck is eating at you."
