HOPE
My heart hammers against my ribs, fight-or-flight kicking in hard as Jeremy stalks toward me like a storm with a face.
He's just as hauntingly beautiful as I remember—a devil in designer boots, and he's heading straight for me.
I take a step back—just one—but he doesn't slow down. He's relentless. And I'm stumbling before I can help it, the wall of the building slamming into my back with unforgiving finality.
He closes the gap like a predator with all the time in the world. My hand dives into my bag, my fingers curling around the familiar coolness of my blade.
The blade snaps out as I raise it, just in time to catch him before he could lean to me. The steel kisses the hollow of his throat, and only then—only then—does he stop.
His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise breaking through the cold intensity. Like he genuinely didn't expect me to fight back. Like I'm a puzzle piece that doesn't fit.
But that surprise only lasts a second.
