Elena stood there, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, her hand still pressed to the red mark on her cheek.
I didn't feel bad. Not really.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit. But I crushed it immediately.
"Get inside," I said, my voice colder than I knew I could manage. "Before someone drives by and sees you crying on our doorstep like a lost puppy. The last thing we need is more headlines."
Elena nodded frantically and stumbled over the threshold, her expensive heels clicking against the marble foyer. She looked completely out of place, all that desperation drowning in designer silk.
I watched her arms wrap around herself, and for a split second, I remembered what it felt like to be that scared.
Then I remembered the tank.
The water filling my nose.
The hands in my hair.
Nope. Sympathy officially revoked.
Adrian's hand found the small of my back. "Breathe," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "I can hear you spiraling from here."
"I'm not spiraling," I lied.
