Nothing.
He’s lost in it. Rage, jealousy, fear, and whatever darkness has him by the throat are stronger than my words.
My pulse is a frantic thrum in my ears, and my chest seizes with dread. Something inside me snaps, and all I want to do is flee.
“I’m not doing this!” I shout, stepping back so fast I bump into the table. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”
My words punctuate the air. Sharp. Final.
And Knox hears them. Iseethem register.
His head jerks in my direction, his eyes snapping to mine with something feral and terrified flickering beneath all that rage. For a split second, his anger breaks, then his grip loosens around Chad’s neck.
Chad drops like dead weight, hitting the cobblestones hard before rolling onto his side.
He wheezes violently, coughing in fits as he clutches his throat, then gulping down air like he’s drowning on dry land.
Knox doesn’t look at him. Not once.
His gaze is locked on me, dark and frantic as if my words cut deeper than any punch he threw.
“Isla…” Chad coughs, his voice rough and wrecked, his face bloodied and bruised. He moves toward me on his knees, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t, Chad.” I shake my head at him. “You stay. Or better yet, go back to New York. Knox is right.”
“Isla. But?—”
“No.”
Knox steps forward, closer to me, but I stop him, too, with a shake of my head.
“Love, let’s go.” His gaze locks with mine, the rage fading and something softer entering his eyes.
In that split second, my previous worries about us, abouthim,return and the mess with Chad fades. This isn’t about Chad anymore.
Truthfully, everything about Chad was a separate matter that just highlighted the problems Knox and I have between us.
The confusion, the conflict, the clashing. It’s all too damn much. It feels like trying to walk backwards down a cliff with the edges crumbling into the sea.
I turn away. Because if I don’t, I’ll break. So, I turn and walk as fast as I can.
If I stay another second, I’ll fall apart right in front of both of them.
“Isla,” Knox calls after me, and just like I thought he would, he follows me.
His determined footsteps hit the cobblestones behind me, heavy and unrelenting.
Just like his presence.
“Isla, stop.” His voice wraps around me, still vibrating with the remnants of the fight.
I keep going, walking faster.
If I turn around now, all the things I shouldn’t feel for a man who will never be mine will spill out.
The crowd murmurs behind us, phones still recording the aftermath, but Knox doesn’t care. It’s strange because he’s so protective of his life from the press.
The only thing he seems dead set on is closing the distance between us.
