The words landed like spilled gasoline.
Thea exploded forward, nails out, voice splitting the air.
"You filthy, shameless bitch! I'll rip that pretty face off you!"
Andrew's head pounded—sharp, rhythmic, like someone hammering inside his skull.
The drug was mostly gone, leaving only sour nausea and the sourer taste of panic.
He couldn't let this spiral any further. If the neighbors heard more, if word reached the factory leadership, if photos were already circulating… He lunged between them, arms out, blocking Thea's path.
"Enough!" he snarled, then rounded on Vanessa, voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "Put some damn clothes on and get out. This was mutual. You wanted it as much as I did. What more do you want from me?"
Vanessa's eyes darkened to something almost black.
