“I emailed them on your behalf,” he continues, his tone casually annoying. “Said you were in an accident. That you won’t be able to continue your training.”
The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and my heart hurts. My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes, but I force them back, my lips pressing into a thin line. My posture wavers for just a moment before the fury builds, hot and overwhelming.
“You did what?” I grit, the words trembling on the edge of a scream.
He doesn’t answer, his silence heavy, almost smug, like he’s daring me to confront him. I clench my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I fight the urge to turn and meet his gaze.He knows exactly what he’s done.
“I fucking hate you,” I spit, each word laced with venom. My chest heaves as the wrath burns hotter, wild and unrestrained. “I’ll never be with you the way you want me to be.”
I spin around, facing him head-on, and jab my finger into the hard plane of his chest, my glare sharp. “I’d rather fucking kill myself than stay here with you, living this twisted, derangedversion of life you’ve created. I’ll run before you can even fucking catch me.”
His jaw tightens, the muscle there ticking with irritation, his dark eyes flashing with something unspoken, something dangerous, but he doesn’t explode. Not yet. He stands there, taut and controlled, like he’s giving me space to throw every ounce of my anger at him. Like he’s inviting it.
“You’re living in some fucked-up lala land,” I seethe, my voice trembling with unshed tears. “You think you can just keep a woman captive, break her down, pleasure her like a damn puppet, and she’ll fall in love with you? You’re insane!”
The words come out sharper, louder, tearing through the suffocating silence between us and my throat burns as I say them, my teary eyes narrowing, locking onto his.
“I could never—NEVER fall in love with a monster who doesn’t even have it in him to love me back!” My tone cracks, the rage spilling out like poison. “You’re fucking dead inside. You’re...”
I shake my head, disgust warping my face and that’s when it happens. I see it. The hurt flashing through his eyes before he snaps.
Before I can blink, his hand shoots up, clamping around my jaw like a vice. He slams my head back against the wood with enough force to shock me, and I wince, pain radiating through my skull. My hand rises instinctively, aiming to smack him, but he catches my wrist mid-air and with one swift motion, he pins it to the window, his hard body pressing me into place, caging me.
“Stop,” I hiss, but it’s hushed by his hold, my body squirming under his power.
His dark, wide eyes search mine, their depths unreadable yet terrifying.
“Are you finished tearing more holes into me?” he asks, his tone ridiculously calm. “Like I don’t have e-fucking-nough of them already?”
Tears blur my vision until I finally let them fall, silent streaks sliding down my cheeks, but they don’t soften him. His fingers tighten around my jaw, dragging my face up to meet his.
“Don’t you fucking look away from me,” he growls, slamming my head back against the wood again—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me snap to attention, my eyes flying open to meet his.
“Now,” he says with a low, guttural rumble, “listen to me very, very carefully, beautiful girl.”
His tone alone makes my stomach churn, my body trembling beneath his unrelenting hold.
“Ever run from me, and I’ll make sure you never forget it—I’ll make sure you never stop feeling it.”
The promise in his words sends a shiver down my spine.
“This is your fucking warning, Kitten. When they run from me, I get a rush to spill their blood. But with you? I’d go feral just to taste every drop of your fear. And trust me, the latter is far fucking deadlier.”
I stare into his eyes, and what I see there steals the breath from my lungs. There’s no bluff, no emptiness to his threat. A sob escapes me as he unexpectedly releases me, and I lower my head. He turns, ready to leave again and I lift my wet eyes. His hand grips the door handle, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on, but the bitterness in my voice cuts through it like a blade.
“I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, psycho boy,” I sneer, venom dripping from every word. “You wouldn’t want to meet your own fate with that axe, would you?”
He freezes mid-motion, his hold tightening on the handle. Slowly, he side-eyes me, the hint of a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. It’s unsettling, the kind of laugh that coils around your spine and squeezes. He shakes his head slightly with amused disbelief.
“I always have my eyes open, freckles,” he says with a dangerous blend of dark humour and malice.
He turns his head just enough for our gazes to lock. “Watching you sleep,” he continues with a brow lift, “imagining how my axe would look buried deep inside your asshole while I fucked that brat mouth of yours. I wonder how you’ll walk the next day after I rearrange your fucking guts.”
The casual way he says it makes my stomach burn, the images hitting me like a smack. And then, as quickly as the smirk flickered on his lips, his expression hardens, his eyes trailing down my front with hunger.
Without another word, he yanks the door open and steps through, slamming it shut behind him with a force that rattles the old walls. The sound jolts me, and I close my eyes trying to regain my composure.
“Prick,”I mutter, reopening my eyes and wiping my nose with my sleeve.