Chapter 24 · Terms and Conditions

"You owe me," I said.

He didn't move.

Rain slammed the courtyard like handfuls of buckshot. My knuckles were white around the Escalade's door handle, the freezing metal biting straight into my skin. Water ran down my throat, soaking through my collar, plastering my clothes to my chest. I didn't care.

Dominic stood six feet away in the downpour. No coat. No umbrella.

His white shirt clung to his chest like a wet sheet. Right below his ribs, a pale red stain spread through the cotton where his stitches were tearing open again.

He should've been inside. He'd followed me anyway.

"Mara." His voice was rough, dragged over broken glass. "Get away from the truck."

"Or what? You'll lock me up?" A wet, bitter laugh ripped out of my throat. "Too late. Pier Nine, remember? You traded me off like a piece of salvaged furniture."

"That wasn't what happened."

"Then what was it?"

His jaw flexed. Water dripped from his chin, running down the hard line of his throat. He cut a sharp glance toward the gatehouse, then back to me. Every muscle in his frame was wound tight. *Not out here.*

"Inside," he ordered.

"No."

"You're shaking."

"I'm furious.