Seraphina's Point Of View
I was already walking away.
One step. Two.
My heels clicked softly against the polished floor, rhythmic, controlled, professional… everything I had trained myself to be. I didn't look back. I didn't slow down. I didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had cracked even a sliver of my composure.
Then, a hand closed around my left wrist.
Out of nowhere.
Too sudden. Too familiar.
My body reacted before my mind did. A sharp inhale caught in my throat, my shoulders stiffening instinctively, every muscle going taut. My fingers curled reflexively, nails biting into my palm as if bracing for impact.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
I felt him.
The grip… firm, deliberate, confident in a way that once upon a time had made my knees weak. Fingers wrapping around my wrist like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
God.
I closed my eyes briefly and let out a slow, tired sigh. Not anger. Not panic.
Just exhaustion.
