C163 I still hate him.

The room was cold—or maybe it was just him. Arms folded, gaze sharp like a blade.

My heart hammered, but I refused to back down.

“How are you this calm? Someone just died.” His eyes locked on mine. Cold. Because he already knew.

Of course, he did. Clayton didn’t just play the game—he built it, set the rules, and broke them when it suited him.

I stared at him. He didn’t deny it