Page 3 of Secret Betrayals


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“I won, bitch.”

She wants a reaction. I glance over my shoulder, meet her gaze, and return the smirk. “I’m happy for you. Hope you two are real fuckin’ happy together.” I give her a wink and turn back to Talon—cool, unbothered, dismissing her like the afterthought she is.

His hands twitch, clenching and unclenching, jaw tight, eyes locked on me like he’s seeing a ghost he can’t touch. When she doesn’t get what she came for, she finally leaves.

And now, it’s just me and him.

The man who ruined everything.

And the woman who refuses to break.

I close the door. If this gets out of hand, I don’t need any nosy asses hearing anything either of us says. I let out a breath and my eyes close on their own accord, opening when I hear shuffling. Brian sits at the foot of his bed, hands clasped between his open legs, watching me.

For a split second, I want to be that unhinged girl—the one who screams, throws shit, makes a scene because she caught herman cheating. But I won’t give him that. I won’t giveanyonethat.

I lock it all up. Tight.

Without a word, I cross the room, my focus on the nightstand. I open my bag and start packing the things I left here, the most important of which is my laptop. I stupidly forgot it last week. That was a rookie mistake, and I knew better. But I trusted Brian.

Not anymore.

I’ll run a full diagnostic the second I get home. Make sure nothing was tampered with. Papa was tense when I told him I left it here. I promised him it was locked down, inaccessible. And if anyone had tried anything, I’d have gotten an alert. I haven’t—so we’re good. Still, I won’t be careless again. Ever.

As I continue to pack, I ignore the heavy silence between us. I move to the closet, grab my duffel, and stuff it with clothes. Still no words. Just tension, thick enough to slice through.

My mind races as I do what I need to. Young or not, heknewwhat I expected from him—what I said I wouldn’t tolerate. I asked him,more than once,if he was sure about us. He said he was. But words are cheap. And nothing’s ever guaranteed.

I feel his eyes on me, trailing my every move. He watched me while I headed into the bathroom, brushing past the sting of his gaze. I need a breath. I need a wall between us.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asks, voice tight. “Gabby… I thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days.”

Bullshit.

His tone betrays him—he’s nervous. He wants to explain. I’m not interested. I scoff, biting my tongue hard enough to taste blood. If I speak now, I’ll say things I’ll never take back. I’ll burn this place down—him with it. So I say nothing.

But then he follows me in. Bold now. Or desperate. Probably both. He stops behind me, too close, crowding my space like he has any right to it. Chest brushing my back. My body remembers him, wants him. That heat, that pull—familiar, addictive.

I hate it.

I fight it.

I force myself to keep moving, gathering the last of my things from the bathroom counter. Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Don’t break.

Don’t bend.

And when I finally look up. He’s watching me through the mirror. That look in his eyes betrays him—one part regret, one part arrogance, all confusion.

Talon stands over six feet. Built like his father, Brick. Same dark hair, same sharp jawline. Eyes like his mother’s—green with gold flecks. He’s easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And right now, I hate that beauty. Hate how much of him I memorized. How much I still feel.

I suck in a breath.

There is no more us.

Talon and I study each other in silence.