Opal's POV
The tension in the room was thick—so dense she could practically chew on it.
Every breath felt like it had weight, like it might shatter the fragile hold she had on her temper. The argument had been going in relentless, useless circles for what had to be over an hour, and nothing—nothing—was being resolved.
Not that she was surprised.
Ash never backed down. Not when it came to her.
And she?
Well, she was done being handled like a glass doll someone dropped and kept trying to glue back together.
She was standing now, a little unsteady on her feet but not weak, damn it. Her blood still thrummed with exhaustion, but it didn't matter. Her heart was beating, her fists were clenched, and her voice was sharp enough to cut through steel.
"I'm not sitting this out," she snapped, glaring at Ash like she could will him into understanding. "I'm done being sidelined. I'm not weak."
