Morgan shrank before his eyes. Doubt crept into her mind. Dancing made Morgan feel as if she were yelling, like she were using a voice she hadn’t always been brave enough to share. The way he crushed her feelings made her tremble in rage. Morgan had been misunderstood her entire life. Only three people made her feel otherwise. Ethic interpreted her soul, reading through her thoughts like they were printed in ink on the outside. Messiah had learned to speak her language, and the effort of communication had been a gift that made Mo feel like no matter what, at least one person could understand her. Ahmeek was fluent in her body language because he appreciated the way she moved, both on and offstage. He was fluent in the way she spoke without speaking at all. A sixteen count to music was an entire conversation if he was watching, and now Bash was telling her that was a lie. He was telling her the praise was sympathy, and Morgan hated for anyone to feel sorry for her. She could tell he wasn’t even trying to offend her. He was giving his perception of truth. He didn’t believe in her. She wondered if he ever had. Had he been good at faking, or was he simply fed up? Morgan never claimed to be innocent. She had done him wrong. This much she knew. She just wanted to let this go so they could both move on.

“Wow,” she answered. “Good to know I have your support.” Her sarcasm wasn’t missed. She gathered her bag and fumbled with Yara on her hip as she headed toward the door. “I’m going to spend a few days at my apartment.”

“You sure you want to do that?” he asked.

Morgan recognized the threat. “Don’t worry. You’ve pushed every man who’s ever loved me away, Bash. After the things I’ve done”—she shook her head—“all I’ve got is you left. Mission accomplished. You have a key, warden. You know where to find me. I just need some air.”

She hated that she was a crier. Didn’t matter that this was anger and not sadness, those tears were coming. Morgan pushed out of the bedroom and stormed through the house to find her son.

“Ssari, let’s go. We’re going home for a little while,” Morgan said as she entered the living room where Messari sat on the floor in front of Christiana. He played quietly with his toys as she sat with readers on while enjoying a crossword puzzle. It could all be so simple. Only her heart wouldn’t let it. These people didn’t love her. They wanted to control her. Morgan couldn’t figure out why. She shouldn’t be important enough for them to force this the way they were. The longer she stayed, the more creeped out by them she became.