(Evelina's POV—Outside the Police Station)
The cold night air hit my skin the moment we stepped out of the station—cleaner, sharper, and blessedly free of the stench of sweat and incompetence inside.
I exhaled slowly.
Theo, unfortunately, did not.
He stayed glued to my side like a problematic shadow with expensive cologne.
His hand still lingered around my waist—the audacity—while I shot him sideways daggers sharp enough to carve his name into his own tombstone.
We stopped at the bottom of the steps. The station doors closed behind us with a soft click, sealing the chaos inside.
Theo turned toward me, looking far too pleased with himself.
I crossed my arms, saying, "Let's talk."
Theo raised a brow at me, a wicked tilt to his mouth.
"Oh?" he drawled softly. "Here? Or do you want somewhere more private, baby?"
I glared daggers sharp enough to perform open-heart surgery.
"Since when," I hissed, "did I become your baby?"
Theo didn't blink.
Didn't falter.
