I stayed at the bar, finding a quiet spot away from the smoky haze and loud laughter. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. But before I could fully settle, Constantine appeared out of nowhere, his face stormy and his eyes full of grudges.He grabbed my arm—not roughly, but firmly enough to make it clear this wasn’t a casual encounter. "Leave," he demanded, his voice low and urgent as he loosened his grip.I blinked, surprised. "I beg your fucking humblest of pardons?" He fueled the growing resentment I had for him.He glanced around, making sure no one could hear, then leaned in closer. "This isn't a place for you."I pulled my arm free, narrowing my eyes. "I’m here as Carlisle's guest, and I’m not leaving. This isn’t your house, and I doubt you own this place either."His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, he just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "It’s not safe for you."I
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