Damien
The sight of Riley kneeling beside Callum twists something deep inside me, something I don't want to name. I stand back, fists clenched at my sides, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions.
This shouldn't bother me. It shouldn't. But the relief on her face when Callum whispered his apology, the way her hand trembled as she touched his bloodied cheek—it's like a punch to the gut.
I remind myself why we're here, why any of this started. Riley came to me because of him. Callum fucking Hawthorne. My biggest rival. The man who had everything and didn't know what to do with it.
She walked into Arcadia that night, her head held high, offering me the kind of information I'd kill for. She was supposed to be a means to an end, a pawn in a game I was all too familiar with.
Now, seeing her here, tears streaking her face as she listens to his apologies, I can't decide if I hate him more for hurting her or for making her love him once.