The room was cold, sterile. The harsh fluorescent lights cast stark shadows over the metal table, the walls echoing with a silence that felt oppressive. Warner stood across from you, his posture rigid, arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable, a perfect mask of control—except for the fire smoldering in his green eyes.

He hadn’t spoken to you since the kiss. Since the moment you whispered Adam instead of Aaron. A mistake that felt like a gunshot in the dark, the weight of it still choking the air between you two.

He was furious. You could feel it radiating off of him, cold and sharp like a blade. His back had been turned for days, his demeanor cold and distant, but now he stood before you, his jaw clenched as if to keep himself from speaking the words that had been building up inside him.

You tried to speak, trying to explain but before you could, he had cut you off. “Don’t,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip. His eyes, normally so calculating, flashed with something darker, something that chilled you to the bone. “Don’t you dare say my name now. Not after you said his.”

He stepped closer, and for a moment, your heart raced, not in fear, but in something else. “I’ve done everything for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, yet carrying the weight of his anger, his hurt. “I protected you. I saved you. Do you think I care about anyone else this way? Do you think I’ve ever let anyone else this close? I can take your power. You’re lethal, but I can control it. And this—this is how you repay me?” You swallowed hard, the tension thick between you, almost tangible.

With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing there, your heart racing and your mind spinning. The echo of his words—his anger, his possessiveness—lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he was so furious with you, or the fact that, despite it all, you wanted him to come back.