---- Chapter 3 Emily POV: Killian' s gaze, once a warm embrace, was now as cold and sharp as splintered ice. He stared into the darkness where | was frozen, his expression unreadable but radiating a dangerous stillness. Instinctively, he pulled away from Dallas, his body tensing like a predator that had scented a threat. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the gloom beyond the headlights' glare. "Emily?" His voice was a low growl of disbelief. He pushed open the car door, the expensive mechanism sighing softly in the quiet street. He walked towards me, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the grime of the alley. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone a strange mixture of concern and irritation. "It's not safe." "What are you doing here, Killian?" | shot back, my voice shaking with a rage | hadn't known | possessed. | pushed myself up, brushing the dirt from my jeans. Before he could answer, Dallas emerged from the car, wrapping a silk scarf around her neck. She glided to Killian's ---- side, linking her arm through his. "Oh, Emily, it's you," she said, her voice dripping with cloying sweetness. "Killy was just showing me where he grew up. It's so... rustic." She looked at me, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "I'm so sorry about what happened between us in high school. | was just a silly, jealous girl. | hope you can forgive me." "Don't," | snapped, cutting through her performance. "Just don't, Dallas." Her facade crumbled for a second, a flicker of triumph in her eyes before she buried her face in Killian's chest, her shoulders starting to shake with manufactured sobs. "I'm sorry," she whimpered into his expensive suit. "I'm just trying to make things right." Killian's arms went around her instantly, pulling her close, stroking her hair. He looked over her head at me, his brow furrowed with disappointment. "Emily, that's enough. She's trying to apologize." The injustice of it all was a physical blow. My heart, which | thought had already been shattered, seemed to break all over again. Him. Defending her. My mind flashed back to high school. To Dallas and her friends cornering me in the locker room, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls as they held me down. Dallas, with a smug smile, had used a compass needle to carve a word into the soft skin of my wrist: Worthless. ---- The physical wound had healed into a faint, silvery line, but the emotional one had festered for years. | had hidden it, ashamed, until | met Killian. He' d been the one to gently take my hand, trace the scar with his thumb, his eyes dark with a protective fury. "Who did this to you?" he had demanded, his voice a low growl. When | whispered her name, he had made a vow. "I will ruin her, Emily. For you. | will make her pay for every tear you shed." It was a promise he never kept. Instead, he had fallen for the very monster he had sworn to slay. The irony was so bitter it felt like poison. "Emily?" Killian's voice pulled me back to the present. He was looking at me with that familiar impatient frown. "Are you just going to stand there?" He gestured towards the Maybach. "Get in the car. We'll take you home." "Oh, yes, please come with us," Dallas chimed in, lifting her tear-streaked face from his chest. Her eyes, however, were cold and sharp with victory. "We can all be friends." She stepped towards me, her hand outstretched as if to help me up. As she reached for my arm, her perfectly manicured fingers dug into the sensitive skin around my old scar. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but the sharp sting of her nails was deliberate, a cruel, private message just for me. ---- Agasp of pain escaped my lips, and | jerked my arm back. The sudden movement made Dallas lose her balance. She stumbled backward with a theatrical cry, collapsing onto the grimy pavement in a heap of designer clothes and feigned distress. Killian's reaction was instantaneous. He saw her fall, saw me pull away, and his mind, clouded by his infatuation, drew the only conclusion it could. He thought | had pushed her.