Cameron stepped in first, flanked by Gray and two security backups—one male, one female in an evening gown that looked far too glamorous for the holster she barely concealed at her side.
Clara froze under my grip. My palm still pressed against her jaw, but my body trembled—not with rage now, but with restraint. The fever in my blood was still burning, distorting everything.
Cameron's voice sliced through the heat and chaos like a blade. "Adrien. Let her go."
My jaw clenched. I didn't move.
"She's not going anywhere," Cameron added, stepping closer, hands visible. "We need her to talk. You're burning up. Let Gray get you out of here. Let us handle this."
Clara twisted in my grip. "Adrien, don't listen to them—"
I slowly loosened my hold, backing away like I was coming off a ledge. My head spun. The warmth in my blood surged and dipped, like I was falling through waves of heat. I could barely breathe.
