"He made me half the monster I am today," he said when her back hit the wall. Stooping down, he brought his mouth to her ear, whispering all the crude details of what had happened—why JK was not just guilty by default. He'd been tried and judged, and his sentence had been chosen carefully—oh, so carefully.
Her eyes widened in shock, before she bent forward, retching and emptying the contents of her stomach.
That's when he let go. He stepped back, slowly getting the anger rolling off him under control.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so very sorry, Ronan."
He was already far away. Both physically and mentally.
Shrugging his glove off, he slid his hand through the broken glass, trying to feel the pain as shards of glass became embedded in his flesh. Her platitudes were just like the pressure of the glass—there, but ultimately immaterial, for they couldn't break through his armor anymore.
He was quiet for a moment, and as he heard the door open, his sister almost on her way out, he finally spoke.
"So you see, Yelena, I cannot help you. His fate is sealed, and that of anyone who will try to help him."