"What the fuck do you want?" I demand, my voice flat, holding back the torrent of rage I feel every time I see her face.
Amara glances nervously past me at Vega's men who are standing nearby, diligently guarding me. She lowers her voice. "We need more privacy."
"This is how much privacy you are going to get," I snap, crossing my arms.
Amara sighs dramatically. "Were you hurt?" she asks, reaching out and trying to touch my face, then trying to turn me around like a concerned mother.
I pull her hand away sharply. "Say what you want and stop wasting my time."
"I'm just worried about you," she insists, her expression practiced.
"Since when did you ever care about me?" I challenge, my voice brittle. "If anything, you wanted your shame erased from the earth."
"No, you misunderstand," Amara says, her eyes wide and innocent. "I have always cared for you."
"Let's stop with the fake niceness," I cut her off. "What do you want?"
