"It all makes sense now," Wesley muttered through gritted teeth, more to himself than to anyone else.
"No wonder you've been hard to reach lately, Sasha. I'm out here thinking everything's fine—meanwhile, you've been letting this asshole take you out behind my back?"
Sasha opened her mouth, but no words came. Her heart was pounding.
She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She hadn't even thought things through.
It had all started off so simple—just a few dates. A distraction. A curiosity.
But Ross had a way of making her feel seen in a way Wesley never had. It had spiraled before she could stop it.
"You're embarrassing yourself," Ross said coolly, breaking the silence.
He wasn't mocking, but his words cut deep. "Put your ego back in your pocket before someone gets hurt."
That was the last straw.
"Fuck you, Ross!" Wesley shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of rage and betrayal.
And then, without warning, he reached into his jacket and yanked out a pistol.
