“Pen, this is grief talking,” Zayn says, stepping towards me. The look he gives me is one of regret and sorrow, as though what happened today is as much his fault as it is mine. “Tomorrow you’ll see clearer.” “No!” I snap, shaking my head. “It isn’t grief. This is self-preservation. This is realisation. This is me growing the fuck up. Even if David was thrown behind bars he’d find a way to get to Lena, to you all, to me. This only ends when he’s dead. I’m just sorry I was too stubborn, too fucking self-righteous to see that before now.” York shakes his head, stepping towards me. “It’s
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