The tap on Mike's shoulder was light, almost cautious, but it made him whip around like a snake poised to strike. His eyes flared the moment he saw her—Cynthia.

"Bitch!" he snapped, his voice slicing through the silence of the hallway. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get inside?"

Cynthia flinched but held her ground. Her fingers trembled slightly by her sides, her gaze fluttering nervously toward the ground before lifting again. "Mike... please, I—I came to talk to you. To apologize."

"Apologize?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "You really think I want to hear any of your bullshit?" He stepped closer, his face twisted with...