AYLA
"You don't get to walk away with my son, Ayla."
The words dragged out of him, rough, barely holding together—but they landed.
Hard.
For a fraction of a second, the world tilted.
Not because he was wrong.
But because he sounded certain.
He'd said it like he knew.
Like he was sure.
But he wasn't… right?
Only Gianna, Millie, and I knew about that little piece of Arthuro.
No one else.
No one was supposed to.
The hot retort boiling on my tongue died the moment I saw the blood.
"You're bleeding on my floor."
It came out harsher than intended.
Good.
Let it be harsh.
Let it be anything but what was clawing its way up my throat.
His knees buckled, and a heavily built, egocentric dead weight slammed into me, the impact forcing me back a step on the stairs.
Air punched out of my lungs.
He dropped hard.
Too fast.
Too sudden.
He fucking fell on me, staining my Hello Kitty pajamas with blood.
Blood pooled on the floor of the staircase.
Blood was everywhere.
