Vicious had dragged Lily into his room, his voice sharp, controlled, trembling slightly with disbelief.
"What is this, Thalia?" he demanded, eyes blazing. "Did you think poisoning Mario and Fernandez was funny? Do you have any idea how reckless that was?"
Thalia's cheeks flushed not with guilt, but with irritation. She crossed her arms, standing tall, meeting his glare head-on.
"I didn't poison anyone!" she shot back, her voice firm. "It was harmless flour. A lesson to those men, nothing more. They needed it."
Vicious took a step closer, voice dropping to a harsh growl. "Lesson or not, you took it too far. Do you have any idea what could have happened? This isn't a game, Thalia!"
Her jaw tightened. "And what about them? Those men were looking at Lily and me like we were objects. Did you stop to think about how we feel? Or were you just imagining the worst, as always?"
He froze, his chest heaving slightly, tension radiating off him. "I… I was worried.
"Well, congratulations!" Thalia snapped, stepping closer until there was only a breath between them. "You worried. You doubted me. You didn't trust me for a second! You think I can't handle myself, Vicious. That's what makes me mad!"
Vicious's fists clenched at his sides. "Do you think I enjoy it? Do you think I like questioning every move you make?"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking just a little. "Maybe you don't think about me at all, about what it feels like to be treated like I'm fragile or dangerous just for using my brain and wit!"
The room went quiet, heavy with the weight of their emotions. He wanted to respond, to apologize, to explain but the words stuck in his throat. She spun on her heel and moved toward her room, leaving him staring after her, frustration and worry twisting in his chest.
For the rest of the day, they avoided each other. Thalia kept to her tasks, her expression unreadable, her distance deliberate. Vicious lingered in the common areas, unsure whether to approach, fearing any attempt might make things worse.
By late afternoon Thalia had dressed, slipping into something comfortable yet practical. She had made up her mind she needed to see her cousin, someone who understood her in ways Vicious could not at this moment. She picked up her bag and paused at the door, taking a deep breath to steady her thoughts.
Vicious appeared behind her almost silently. "Thalia…" His voice was low, hesitant. "Please, wait. Can we talk?"
"I don't think we can," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I need space."
He stepped closer, trying to close the distance. "I just want to explain. I don't want you thinking I don't care."
She shook her head. "I know you care. But caring doesn't mean you get to dictate or distrust me. I'm not one of your men, Vicious. I'm me. And I need to go see someone
His jaw tightened. "I can take you," he offered, almost pleading.
"I'll go myself," she said firmly, meeting his eyes. "Please… don't follow me. Not this time."
Vicious's shoulders slumped, a storm of emotions behind his eyes. He nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Be careful, Thalia," he said quietly, though his voice betrayed his frustration and concern.
"I will," she whispered, softening just slightly, giving him a small nod before turning toward the door.
As she walked away, Vicious remained rooted in the hallway, watching her fade into the night. Anger, love, worry, and disappointment swirled inside him, leaving him tense and conflicted. Thalia's independence shone clearly in her steps — bold, defiant, unyielding — and even though he hated the distance between them, he couldn't take it away.