She took off her gloves and her coat, handing them off to the concierge as she made her way to the gold velvet armchair she’d been sitting in before, the one by the enormous fireplace. Staring into the flames, Jaya knew with absolute certainty that she’d lashed out at Grey like that because he’d struck a nerve. The truth was, she was scared. She was scared of the exact thing he’d said to her—that she was nothing more than a mouthpiece for her father. And she’d never confronted that fear before. And… Grey wasn’t the only one who’d twisted and turned into himself. He wasn’t the only one who’d done things he’d never have done under ordinary circumstances. Seeing him, the look in his eyes, the absolute heavy weight he carried on his shoulders day after day, the surety he had that he was doomed, damaged, destined for death, and knowing that he could never have orchestrated the scandal against Isha… Jaya had known then, on that boulder, that she could not carry her plan through. Not anymore.

What did this mean for her loyalty toward her family, toward her sister? How could she avenge the Rao name if she stepped aside this way? She didn’t know. All she knew was that you sparred with an opponent in your own weight class. You didn’t strike at someone in pain, someone who was already hunched over in agony, someone begging the fates for forgiveness.

She couldn’t make this boy fall in love with her. She couldn’t break his heart. Because if she did, it was her, not him, who was the beast.

Grey

Grey walked into the lodge feeling bruised and paper-thin, like he was liable to rip in half at any moment. He shouldn’t have turned on Jaya like that. He shouldn’t have said the things he’d said; he’d been way over the line. But the things she’d said in return? The way he’d poured himself out to her. He’d lain himself bare, stepping over a threshold he’d never crossed before. That had obviously been a huge mistake. This was why he held himself so carefully; this was why he refused to let people see who he really was. Because no one understood. Because no one could ever understand.

The attendant came up to him and took his coat, hat, and gloves and handed him a note.

Frowning, Grey opened it.

Please forgive me. I’d like to talk, if you’re open to it. I’m by the fireplace.

–Jaya

Folding the note, he stuck it in his pocket and looked toward the armchairs by the fireplace, his heart thudding. Jaya sat there, looking right at him. She raised a hand in a hesitant wave. The embers of anger and shame in his heart began to die down at the look in her soft brown eyes.