Chapter 12 #3
Everything happens at once. Kane steps closer, his voice going from sexy to demanding. “What exactly happened?”
Rachel starts pacing, muttering about hunting someone down and making them pay. Cam glances between all of us, assessing how close we are to a full-scale eruption. And the tension in the room suddenly thickens, pressing down like a brewing storm.
I glance at Kane again, and it’s unsettling how calm he looks while simultaneously radiating something dangerous. His body language is deceptively relaxed, but his eyes are lethal. He looks like he’s five seconds away from losing it.
I swallow, forcing a breezy, unconcerned tone. “It really is nothing.” Their stares burn into me, and I shift under the weight of it. “It didn't hurt that badly.''
That was the wrong thing to say.
Kane steps closer, his jaw locking tight. “What. Happened?”
Each word is clipped and dripping with barely-contained anger. I meet his stare, leveling him with the best unimpressed look I can manage while half-naked in my damn pajamas.
“For the record, I can take care of myself,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, daring him to argue. “I appreciate the concern, really, but everyone needs to calm down.”
Rachel looks even more ready to throw hands. Kane is still too quiet. And Cam hasn't said a word. He doesn’t need to know everything. I’m a big girl. We handled it and made it home safe.
No harm, no foul. Except, well… the bruise.
“I bruise easily,” I add casually. “And honestly, I practically tripped. He was already holding my arm, so it wasn’t intentional.” I shrug, hoping that will be the end of it.
But Kane’s expression barely shifts. His jaw flexes, but that intensity in his eyes doesn’t waver.
“I’m going to go get dres—“ I start, desperate to change the subject, but Rachel cuts me off.
“You’re being way too nice about this,” she snaps. “That guy was a creep. He stared at us all night, hitting on you, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I can feel the temperature in the room drop. Cam drags a hand through his hair, already looking like he’s mentally preparing for whatever comes next. And Rachel, oblivious to the sudden lethal shift in energy, keeps going.
“Then, when we left, I swear he followed us outside. We got in the Uber fast, but—”
Kane's head tilts slightly. “What do you mean, followed you?
I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “Okay, now you’re both being dramatic.”
Kane’s voice cuts me off. “Did you see him again?”
I falter. His stare sharpens, pinning me to the spot. I cross my arms, shifting uncomfortably. “No,” I admit. “I mean—”
Rachel snorts. “Tell that to your arm.”
I wince. She’s exaggerating, but also… she’s not entirely wrong.
“To be fair,” I hold up a hand, “he didn’t actually make me fall.” I glance around like there’s an escape route, but Rachel’s on a roll now, and there’s no stopping her.
“I was drunk, that's not fair. Honestly, if he didn’t have a hold of me, I probably would’ve fallen over when I turned around.”
Cam stays suspiciously quiet, but I see him typing away on his phone.
Rachel mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “you’re too nice,” followed by something about still murdering the guy if she ever sees him again.
Kane hasn’t taken his eyes off me. It's like he’s trying to read between the lines. Lines that don’t even exist.
“Did he touch you anywhere else?” Kane finally asks.
My frustration bubbles up.
“No, that was it.” I cross my arms tighter. “Honestly, we were drunk, and this whole thing was just a weird, harmless situation that wasn’t intentional. And I’ll decide who touches me, thank you.”
I shoot Rachel a glare, even though I know she means well. Cam finally looks up from his phone, his expression as unreadable as ever, and I let out a slow breath, forcing my voice to steady. “I’m not excusing what he did, okay? I’m just saying it’s over, and I’m fine.”
I shift my gaze back to Kane, who still doesn’t look convinced. His jaw is tight, and his hands flex at his sides like he’s itching to hit something. I want to scream, but I settle for rolling my eyes.
“I don’t need a rescue team, everyone can chill now, alright?”
That’s mostly directed at Kane. Rachel raises an eyebrow but, for once, doesn’t argue. I can see Kane's jaw ticking but he doesn’t say a word. Cam gives me a small nod, but his fingers are still typing away on his phone.
They’re not letting this go. Fucking great.
“I’m going to get dressed, so everyone calm your tits.”
And with that, I spin on my heel and head for the bedroom. The second I’m behind the door, I let out a slow breath, shaking off the feeling that they aren't going to let this go.
I rifle through my clothes, tossing aside random pieces, mentally plotting to throw something at Rachel the second she walks in.
Why does Kane have to be so damn intense?
I yank a sweater off its hanger, feeling the irritation running wild.
I'm perfectly capable of handling creeps on my own. Yet, no matter how hard I try to cling to that thought, the look in Kane’s eyes stays with me.
I know that look all too well. It's the kind of anger that simmers just beneath the surface, waiting for a reason to come out.
Whatever. Not my problem.
Before I can shove those thoughts away completely, Rachel bursts into the room, practically vibrating with outrage.
“Dude, I can’t believe you have a bruise from that fucker,” she seethes, pacing like she’s ready for round two. “I swear, if I ever see him again...”
“Rach!” I cut in, grabbing a shirt and tossing it at her head. “Settle down. It doesn’t even hurt. I bruise easily. It's really not that deep. Can we please drop it and focus on exploring a freaking castle today?”
The truth is, it does hurt, but I don’t even care about the stupid bruise anymore. I just want to enjoy my day.
“Okay, okay” I can tell she’s still visibly annoyed. “I’m just pissed. And clearly, the guys are too. It’s not okay.”
She pauses, and I can see her frustration softening slightly as she flops onto the bed.
“Also, I don’t think castles work like that. We can’t just go frolicking around like it’s a movie set. There are rules, you know.”
That finally gets a laugh out of me, and the tension in the room eases slightly. I hate when people make a fuss over me, especially when I'm clearly fine. If I was making a fuss? Sure. Let the dramatics fly. But I'm not. I can handle myself.
Not that anyone else seems to get that.
I reach for my necklace, fastening it around my neck before slipping my stones into my pocket, just in case.