Money.
That lands hard.
“What kind?” she presses.
His smile returns.
“Not the kind you ask about.”
That’s it.
I step in, grab him, and slam him onto the metal table.
He hits hard.
Trigger locks his arms.
Beast secures his legs.
“You don’t get to play anymore,” I say.
Up close—
I see it.
He’s slipping.
Losing control.
Good.
Tessa moves closer again.
Focused.
Not afraid.
“You said it was your mistake,” she says. “What does that mean?”
He laughs—short, breathless.
“You weren’t supposed to take the fall,” he says. “She was.”
Everything goes still.
“What?” she whispers.
“She knew what she was doing,” he continues. “You didn’t.”
“That’s not true.”
But even she doesn’t sound sure anymore.
“Isn’t it?”
I’ve had enough.
“She’s not your scapegoat,” I snap.