The Cold Return.

KAIRA'S POV)

The question hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

"Why does that bother you?"

I watched Slade's face. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something raw and unguarded. The way he parted his lips, making me know that he was actually going to answer, my heart pounded in my chest.

Then his expression shuttered.

"Because you're my stepsister," he said, his voice flat and cold. "And people will talk."

I blinked. "What?"

"My father's reputation. My family's reputation." He looked away, staring out the window. "If you start hanging around random guys, people will assume things. It'll reflect badly on us."

"Us?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. "You and me?"

"Don't make this into something it's not."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to remind him that he had kissed me. That he had held me in the water. That he had admitted he wanted to kiss me in the hallway.

Instead, I just sat there, staring at his profile.

"Of course," I said quietly. "The reputation. I should have known."

He didn't respond.

"I'm just the charity case who's dragging down the Horton name." I laughed, but it sounded hollow. "That's all I'll ever be to you, isn't it?"

His jaw tightened. But he still didn't look at me.

"Just take me home," I said. "I don't want to talk anymore."

The rest of the ride was silent. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching the trees blur past. My mind was a battlefield of emotions. Anger. Hurt. Confusion.

Why did he keep doing this? Why did he push me away, only to pull me back? Why did he act like he cared, then pretend he didn't?

I hated him.

I hated that I didn't hate him at all.

When the car pulled up to the mansion, I opened the door before the driver could. I just wanted to escape. I wanted to disappear into my room and forget this day ever happened.

But Slade's hand on my wrist stopped me.

"Kaira."

I didn't turn around. "What?"

"Stay away from him."

I laughed bitterly. "Why? So you can continue to pretend I don't exist? So you can humiliate me at school and then ignore me at home?"

"That's not—"

"Save it." I pulled my wrist free. "You've made yourself clear. I'm beneath you. I'm a charity case. I'm nothing." I finally turned to look at him. "You don't get to care about who I talk to. You don't get to have a say in my life."

His eyes met mine. For a second, I saw something desperate in them. Something that looked almost like fear.

Then it was gone.

"Fine," he said coldly. "Forget I said anything."

He turned and walked toward the mansion, his hands shoved in his pockets. I watched him go, my chest aching with a pain I couldn't name.

I didn't go inside immediately. I stood by the car for a long time, staring at the spot where Slade had disappeared. The night air was cold, but I didn't feel it.

I didn't feel anything except the hollow space where my heart used to be.

"I can't stand the thought of someone else touching you."

Those words replayed in my head over and over. They had sounded so raw. So honest. I had been so sure he was going to admit something.

But then he had ruined it. Like he always did.

"Because you're my stepsister."

A tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, angry at myself for crying. Angry at him for making me care.

He didn't mean it. Any of it. The kiss. The confession. The softness.

I was just a game to him. A way to pass the time. A target for his cruelty.

I needed to remember that.