Chapter 33 · He Waits

"Say it." Cassian's hand closes around my wrist before I even clear the clinic door. "Tell me I'm not standing out here for nothing."

"You weren't invited," I say, but my pulse is already doing something stupid against his palm, and he knows it, because his thumb finds the vein and presses, just once.

"I don't need an invitation." His voice drops low, rough at the edges, like it's been waiting all night to say it. "You're mine, Sloane. Say it back or don't. I'm not leaving either way."

The parking lot is empty except for his car, idling black and patient at the curb, headlights off like he didn't want anyone clocking him there. Smart. Ethan's pack still runs patrols two blocks over.

"I just worked a fourteen-hour shift." I try to pull my wrist back. He doesn't let go. "I smell like antiseptic and I have a guy in bed four who won't stop asking for his mother. I don't have it in me to do this with you right now."

"Then don't do anything.