I tried to shut it out—the echo of Feyre’s voice still rattling in my skull, the way she’d peeled back the layers I guarded so carefully. She hadn’t just pried; she’d torn through me, leaving me exposed and crawling with shame. I was supposed to be better—stronger, more controlled. Yet all I felt was a suffocating weight around my throat, making it hard to breathe.

To the others, I’m confident, cunning. But beneath that façade, I’m a fractured being struggling to hold the pieces together. I’ve failed too many times—to protect, to save myself. Now, this... humiliation. Each memory Feyre unearthed felt like a dagger twisted into my gut.

I needed to escape, to bury this moment so deep even I couldn’t find it. Yet, as I retreated into the shadows, her presence—sharp and cutting—followed. She was always there, seeing too much, questioning everything I wanted buried.

I spun around, meeting her gaze. Her understanding was unnerving, stripping me down like Feyre had, but in a far more dangerous way. My chest tightened, frustration boiling over.

“Leave me alone,” I snapped, desperate and harsh, then turned away to hide the turmoil already laid bare.

"I don't need company. Especially not yours." I hissed.