Mordred's Pov:
The tires screamed against the asphalt as I gunned the bike out of the hospital parking lot, the engine's roar drowning out the echo of Kianna's voice in my head.
"Stop acting like my guardian." " Stop messing with my friendships." These two words made me feel like shit.
She even called security on me and made him haul me out like some thug. And what even hurt the most, is her cold and defiant eyes as she hugged that snake Lysander.
After everything—after I'd begged her not to go, after I'd risked my neck a dozen times to keep her safe—she'd chosen him. Defended him and pushed me away.
Fury boiled in my veins, hot and thick, making my grip on the handlebars white-knuckled.
The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow, November wind whipping through my jacket like icy knives.
Home? Screw that. The empty house would just amplify the rage, the walls closing in with memories of her—wet from the shower, laughing in my bed and her body arching under mine.
