Noah
"I—no, I don't—I'm not really that kind of person," I stammered, the old, polite habits trying to reshape my sentences.
But then I stopped. The image of the school hallway flashed through my mind again, followed by the memory of my father's cold, blank stare at the dinner table for an entire year.
I looked Cyan dead in the eyes, my jaw tightening. "…Yes," I said quietly, the word feeling heavy and a little shameful, but completely real. "I want him to know what it feels like. Just once."
A small, dark smile crept onto Cyan's face—nothing playful or dramatic this time, but something much colder, something that looked almost dangerous. "Good. Leave Nick to me."
My heart gave a nervous thump. "What are you going to do to him?"
Cyan turned back to the dashboard, his long fingers reaching for the ignition as he started the engine up again with a loud roar. "I'm still deciding, darling."
