Sett’s fists were clenched at his sides, knuckles white, like he was holding himself back from punching something—or someone. His golden eyes burned, but there was something raw behind the fire.

“Funny,” he said, his voice sharp, bitter. “All this time I thought I meant somethin’ to you. Guess I was just an idiot, huh?”

He took a step forward, shoulders tense. “Was I not enough? Or d’you just get bored and figure you’d find somethin’ better?”

His breath was heavy, jaw tight, every word laced with anger that barely hid the sting underneath. “Say somethin’—‘cause right now, the picture in my head’s a hell of a lot worse than whatever excuse you’re about to give.”