Clare's POV:
I don't know if he did it on purpose or if he didn't notice, but the way he gripped my arm was painful.
He was pissed.
And I had no clue where he was taking me, but the wild, erratic energy rolling off him in waves told me one thing—this wasn't going to end well for me.
His fingers dug in, too tight, too unforgiving, pressing against bone with a force that promised bruises.
I refused to cry out.
Refused to let the pain spill from my lips, afraid the sound would come out too soft, too weak—too girlish.
If I made a noise, if I slipped even once, he would know.
And not only would I anger Reed, but I would sign my own death sentence.
Because once he realized I wasn't a dude, once he put the pieces together… what then?
I had no clue how he'd react, but I knew one thing: deranged men don't take betrayal lightly.
