The rain hammers down in sheets, turning the street into a blur of silver and shadow. You can barely see Stiles’s face through the downpour, but you don’t need to. You know every expression he’s ever made. And right now, from the way his jaw is set and his hands are shaking at his sides, he’s furious.

He says her name like it’s a lifeline. Like it doesn’t slice right through you every single time.

His voice cracks on the last word, and for a second — just a second — he looks less angry and more lost.