Odette's POV
The car door slammed, and the sound felt too loud — too final.
I sat there, trembling, the smell of smoke still clinging to my hair, to my skin. My palms were sticky, not sure if it was blood or sweat. My ears rang with the echo of gunfire that wouldn't stop.
And then him.
Evander slid into the seat beside me, silent, his movements too calm for someone who had just walked through hell. I could hear him breathing — slow, deep, measured — like he was trying to cage something inside him.
I hated that I could tell the difference.
I turned my head slightly, following the sound of his breath, the shift of his clothes. I could feel him there, like a storm pressed against my ribs. My throat ached.
"You—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, tasted copper. "Are you stupid?"
He didn't answer.
"Did you—" I let out a choked laugh. It sounded ugly, broken. "Did you seriously take a bullet for me?"
Still nothing.
