Page 44 of Emylia

Something snapped inside me. The leash on my rage. It fractured, releasing the wildfire that always walked with me, like a shadow.

“You’re right,” I bit out. “I’m not sorry.”

If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one he wouldn’t forget.

A slow, wolfish smile bared just a hint of fang. “There she is,” he said, almost like it pleased him. “That’s the girl I saw in town.”

I stepped closer, rising to my full height—chin up, shoulders squared. He still towered over me, but I wasn’t built to be intimidated.

I was built to bite back.

“Really? And what girl was that?” I spat.

“The one drowning in unapologetic rage,” he said, like it was a compliment.

Pure vehemence rocked through me, brandishing my skin in molten lava. “Fuck. You.”

His grin spread, wicked and slow. “Is it bad,” he murmured, “that I love the way you say that?”

I had no clue how to respond. So, obviously, I defaulted to virtuous wrath.

Jerking my hand from his, I stormed away. Screw him and his perfect face and smug little smirk.

“Hey,” he called after me, voice like thunder on the horizon. “Wait.”

Not. Going. To. Happen.

“Wait.”

My footsteps pounded against the dirt, fuelled by rage and humiliation and something far too dangerous to name.

I needed space.

Air.

Preferably without smug warriors with lightning eyes and perfectly sculpted cheekbones.

Footsteps pounded behind me as Maalikai jogged to catch up, matching my pace. I ignored him, picking up speed, but was failing in the mess of my flowing skirts.

Anxiety squirmed uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. Knowing Maalikai could ruin me at any moment, left me vulnerable. A feeling I rejected at the best of times.

“Please,” he whispered the word with a tenor that splintered my heart, almost convincing me to give in.

Almost.

“Not a fat chance in Nexus,” I snapped, harsher than I intended.

A calloused hand brushed against my bare arm, bringing me to a complete stop. His touch wasn’t forceful, but it commanded. There was something enigmatic about him that demanded that I listen. Heart thundering, I slowly turned.

“Please.” His voice was low, coaxing—almost amused.

A laugh rolled out of me, easy and bitter. Like I wasn’t a breath away from panic. He could end me with a single word. He’d caught me holding his bow. He had every right. And if he did, my life would crumble faster than I could rebuild it. My mother would be alone, my promise just a whispered word. My uncle wouldn’t be able to fix it. But I’d die before I let him cage me.

My eyes flared. “If you’re going to turn me in, just do it.”

He blinked—slow, deliberate—like he was genuinely confused. “Why do you think I’d turn you in?”

“Because you’re a dick.”

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