Chapter 4

Elena POV:

Killian didn't hesitate. He was at Dallas's side in an instant, his entire focus on her, effectively turning his back on me.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"I just startled her," Dallas whimpered, her voice a masterful performance of trembling fragility. "I don't know why she's so angry."

Killian's fury ignited. He spun on me, his face twisting into a mask of cold rage. "What the hell is wrong with you? You'd attack her over some stupid high-school grudge?"

"She bullied me, Killian," I tried to explain, my voice shaking. "She gave me this scar." I thrust my wrist forward, but his gaze never left Dallas.

"That was years ago. Kids are cruel," he dismissed, his tone laced with ice.

Dallas placed a delicate hand on his arm, a soft, manipulative gesture that only seemed to fuel his anger toward me.

My bag had fallen during the commotion, spilling its contents across the dusty floor. I dropped to my knees to scramble for the few mementos I had of Leo-a worn photograph, a small, lopsided clay bird he'd made for me in art class.

"Here, let me help," Dallas said, her voice dripping with saccharine concern. She bent down, her fingers closing around the little clay bird.

And then she crushed it.

I watched, frozen, as the last thing Leo ever made for me crumbled into dust between her fingers.

A scream tore from my throat, a sound of pure grief and rage. I lunged at her, my vision blurred by tears.

Killian shoved me away.

Hard.

I stumbled backward, my wrist connecting with the hard edge of the doorframe with a sickening crack. Pain exploded up my arm.

He scoffed, looking down at the gray dust on the floor that had once been a bird. "It was a stupid bird, Elena. I'll buy you a hundred more."

He didn't remember. He had completely forgotten that Leo made it for me.

That piece of clay was worth more than his entire empire, and he didn't even know it.