Aurora noticed the flicker of disgust on Maya’s face, a spark that burned hotter than the flames in the hearth behind them.
Her own lips tightened before she forced them into something resembling warmth. She stepped closer, hand brushing the air as though she could smooth the unease.
“I’m Aurora,” she said softly. “And… forgive me for the way I reacted earlier.”
Her voice was calm, but Maya caught the undertone: steel wrapped in silk. Aurora wasn’t apologizing because she was weak. No, she was apologizing because she was strong enough not to give a f**k what Maya thought.
Maya’s stomach twisted. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the polished marble of Logan’s mansion suffocating. She wanted to claw at her own skin just to breathe.
“I don’t like anyone,” she whispered,
