“Coward,” he sneers.
“Move.” I grind my teeth.
Jarek smirks. “Make me.”
A few seconds go by before I attempt to move around him again, but I’m unsuccessful as his arm blocks me. “There’s no escaping this, Sor. Let out that anger before it kills you or gets someone else killed.” With that, he leans into me further, the full weight of his body pressed against my chest. “Think of Elora. Think of the hurt she’s feeling. Your best fucking friend lied to you.Usedyou. You’re telling me you’re not angry?”
I tilt my head to the side, attempting to put as much distance between myself and his words.
The truth.
My best friend betrayed me. He betrayedherafter she trusted him. He hurt her. Hurt Loxley.
My lip snarls, recalling the day he helped Elora with her magick. The day he led us right into a trap.
I think of Ruse and how we nearly lost her.
I think of the puppies and how broken Alaric would have been.
Heat rises to my cheeks and trickles down my neck, my hands beginning to pain from how tightly I’m clenching them.
“You know,” Jarek whispers, his palm still holding me steady against the wall. “Elora wouldn’t have been taken if it weren’t for you.” My body tenses. “Had you not convinced her to leave, she would still be at her cabin in the woods, living the quiet life just as she wanted.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get me to snap, and Mother-be-damned, did that just work.
“I’ll ask you again to step aside,” I say, clenching my jaw. He’s right. Galen betrayed me, but I brought her into this. I used her just as much as Galen used me.
I had a strong intuition that she was a Dyrsjel the day we met on the river. And I knew that if it were true, if she really was, only she could control the Stones and get Sam’s magick. Knew she had to have been from Valebridge. Knew she would be able to get me in unnoticed. I knew all of those things, and I fucking convinced her to come with me without a thought of how it might effectherlife.
And I hate myself for it.
Jarek offers no reply, the pressure on my chest where his palm rests increasing slightly.
“Fuckingmove, Jarek.” The line between anger and violence is paper thin and when Jarek doesn’t budge, it withers as if it were never there.
Unclenching my fists, I shove him backward with as much force as I can muster. He stumbles, freeing me from my position against the wall.
“Do it, Sorin,” he says. “Let it out.”
I shake my hands at my sides and ball them into fists. All I see is Galen.
Before I can think any further, my fist connects with Jareks jaw with a loud crunch. He does nothing to deflect my punch, though I know he’s more than capable. Slowly, his head turns toward me. He runs a hand over his jaw before giving me a feral smile.
“Again,” he commands.
And this time, I listen.
Another punch to the opposite side of his jaw.
One to the stomach.
Another to his kidneys.
He stands like a statue, solid and unmoving as he takes hit after hit.
With each strike, that rage burning inside me lessens. Each strike, I envision Galen. I see the man who betrayed me. Who hurt me. Who hurt her, and I can’t stop. In one sick moment, the face I picture morphs again and I imagine I’m hitting myself for all the pain I’ve caused. All the years wasted and lives lost because of it.
Over and over, I throw my fists at Jarek, and over and over, he takes it. My body is drenched as I finally drop to my knees, attempting to catch my breath. Shakily, I bring my hands to my face, inspecting the blood and bruises littered across my knuckles.
