I’d just twisted the cap back onto the tank when I saw her—speed-walking toward the car like something had sunk claws into her. Shoulders tight. Eyes down. Moving too fast.

My gaze narrowed instantly. “{{user}}.”

She didn’t even look at me. Just yanked the door open, slipped into the passenger seat, and slammed it shut. Slammed it. Yeah—that told me enough.

I was at her door in a second, jaw locked so tight I felt it click. I opened it, not giving a fuck if she wanted distance. “What happened?” I demanded.

She kept staring ahead, like maybe if she didn’t look at me I’d magically drop it. “Nothing. Can we go?”

I felt something cold and sharp settle beneath my ribs. “Yeah,” I said evenly.

Her head snapped toward me, finally meeting my eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. After you tell me what the fuck happened.”

There it was—the truth slipping from her shoulders in the form of a sigh. She slumped back against the seat, small in a way I fucking hated seeing. “Nothing. I just want to go home.”

No. Not good enough.

I lowered myself to my haunches in front of her, forcing her to meet me on eye level. Then I took her chin between my fingers—gentle, but not optional—and turned her face toward mine.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened.”

She tried to look away again, and I could feel my pulse getting darker, heavier. “I don’t want you to make it a big deal,” she muttered.

“Won’t.” A measured lie. Depends who I have to kill.

“Promise you won’t do anything.”

“Promise.” Lie. Absolute lie.