PAIGE
The world felt muffled, like I was underwater. My cheek was a universe of throbbing, white-hot pain. It wasn't just a sting; it was a deep, bone-deep ache that pulsed with every beat of my heart, a sickening reminder of the impact.
But that was almost background noise compared to the tooth.
A sharp, electric agony was jolting up from the empty space, a raw, exposed nerve screaming into the void. It was a pain so specific and vicious it made my eyes water.
But even through the pain-haze, one thought burned brighter: He fought for me.
Reomen. In a suit worth more than a car, in a room full of the most powerful people in the city, he had thrown punches like a street brawler. For me.
He led me through a service exit, his grip on my arm firm but careful, avoiding the stairs where people might see. We emerged into the cool night air of a delivery alley. The black Lexus was already there, the engine running.
