Ana's POV
Morris Welch's fingers dug into my wrist, sending fire through my barely-healed wound. "Let go," I said, keeping my expression stone-cold.
His face went hard for a second. Then he was draping his coat around my shoulders, that familiar condescending tone creeping in. "I was trying to get your mother to drop the whole thing about you and Aileen," he said icily. "They're family. Try being reasonable for once."
Morris studied me, that crease appearing between his brows. I'd always been impossible to handle. Still, here he was, chasing after me. Something about how fragile I looked made his chest do this weird thing—like he actually felt sorry for me. 'But giving in to her dramatics will just make it worse,' I could practically see him thinking.
