Kiss of Ruin
Damian’s hand twitched as if to grab mine, but I lifted it higher, showing them.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” I asked, my voice raw, but steady. “Blood? Pain? Proof that I’m not made of glass?”
The sting burned, but I forced myself to meet their eyes, one by one. “If respect here must be bought with fear, then look closely. I am not afraid of bleeding. I am not afraid of you.”
The silence that followed was thick. Heavy. A different kind of respect—or maybe wariness—settled in the room.
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