RHEA
When I step out of the building, his motorcycle is nowhere to be found.
I scan the street, jaw tight, swallowing the curse threatening to spill out of me. Figures. Of course he’d disappear the second I actually want to confront him.
I pull out my phone, it’s Roofus’s old one. A battered flip phone that belongs in a museum. I scroll through the painfully short contact list, thumb hovering over Titan, already rehearsing the verbal m******e I’m about to unleash on her—
A hand lands on my shoulder.
My body reacts before my brain does.
It takes everything in me not to break his wrist and put him face-first into the pavement. Prison fine-tuned my instincts toward violence in ways I don’t like to think about. I flinch instead because the grip is solid. Controlled.
Strong.
I turn.
He
