I step behind her and smooth her hair back over her shoulders. She shivers but does not try to look at me, keeping her gaze forward. How quickly she is proving capable of abiding by my orders.

The first-aid kit is still on the table, so I reach for it and open a packet of alcohol. Gently, I press my fingers against her chin, tilting her head back until I have access to the cut on her forehead. She watches me with a curious expression as I dab the dried blood off around the edges, but when I feel her gaze burning into the scars beneath my ink, I pause to look down at her.

"Close your eyes."

She hesitates with a sigh but then does as I ask. I continue to clean her wound and then apply some salve and a bandage.

"Why do you care if it gets infected?" she asks.

"Because it would be too easy to lose you to something so simple."

Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine again. "I don't think you are as cruel as you would like everyone to believe."

"Then you are delusional." I release her with an irritated scowl and return the items to the first-aid kit.

"If you hate me so much, then why am I here?" she demands.

The wrappers crumple in my hands before I toss them into the garbage. "You know exactly why."

She glances at me as if she's trying to decipher the hidden meaning of my message, and at the same time, I'm trying to decipher her skills of deception.

Truthfully, I am uncertain if she is aware of the events that transpired. I have questioned it so many times over the years. How much does the rest of her family know about Eli and the explosion? Ivy is close to her father, so there is certainly some level of trust there. But it is difficult to say whether she knows the truth, or she really is as naïve as she pretends. Regardless, until I know for sure, I will assume that the traitorous Moreno blood running through her veins knows perfectly well why she is here.

"If I knew the reasons, then why would I bother to ask?" she challenges.

"Because you are a Moreno," I sneer. "And that makes you a traitor by default."

"And you are a De La Rosa. So, I suppose that makes you an asshole by default."

My palm slides around to the front of her throat, fingertips digging into her pulse as I force her head back until she can't bend any farther. Her fingers come up to mine, prying at my hand as she struggles to free herself from my grasp.

"You're insane," she hisses. "Do you realize that? Just let me go. Let me leave here and you will never have to see me again!"