Blanche's POV
Vincent's brow furrowed, bewilderment clear in his tone. "Where exactly are you headed? To find Demetrius? What makes you so sure he'll just be sitting there waiting?"
I stayed silent.
Fighting with him wasn't worth it, not when he was already wounded.
I backed away, creating as much space as possible between us.
Vincent's hand shot out, but I was already beyond his reach—he grasped nothing but empty air.
I didn't second-guess myself anymore. I spun around and marched straight out of the bedroom.
Vincent could have blocked my path, but he chose not to.
As I made my way downstairs, it hit me—my phone was completely drained.
But thinking about Demetrius, I knew him like the back of my hand. If I didn't appear, he'd be there waiting, no questions asked.
So I hailed a cab and rattled off the downtown address to the driver.
After getting out, I paid with cash. Keeping loose bills on me was just instinct—I always stashed some in my purse.
