Clare POV:
I left those two jerks behind like a queen exiting a warzone — no backward glances, no second thoughts. If they wanted to rip each other apart, fine by me. Hell, they could burn the whole damn house down and I wouldn't bat an eye, so long as they didn't drag me back into their testosterone-fueled circus.
My uterus had already thrown a riot. I didn't need two supernatural clowns joining the parade.
Did I maybe overdo it with the insults? Yeah. Possibly. Did I care? Not in the slightest. I'm not saying yelling at a werewolf and a vampire was smart — it was absolutely not — but you know what else isn't smart? Having your insides feel like they're being clawed out and still being expected to smile and play nice. Screw that.
So yeah, call it bravery, call it stupidity, call it a hormonal-fueled meltdown. I call it my breaking point. And I'd earned it.
