Angry.
Wild.
Like he hadn’t slept.
Like he’d lost something he never thought he could lose.
His eyes flicked from me to Dane to Peter to the table to Carrie, taking in the laughter, the food, the light, the easy joy.
And something inside him snapped.
He charged.
Dane was up instantly.
Peter too.
Two solid walls of muscle between him and me.
“Back up,” Dane warned, voice low, deadly calm. “Breathe. Your daughter lays mere feet from you, Blake. Feet. And you’re here screaming at her mother. Think about what she sees from heaven right now.”
Blake’s face twisted with venom.
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” he spit. “Like you’re some hero. You think you can walk intomyhome,myfamily,mywife—” He jabbed a shaking finger at Dane. “You? The son of a whore and a dead-beat father? Don’t think I don’t know where you crawled out from.”
Peter’s hand shot to Dane’s arm, fast, instinctive trying to tether him before he slipped into the place he went when pushed too far.
But Dane shook him off.
His voice, when he spoke, was steady. Too steady. A blade drawn slowly.
“Yes,” he said, stepping forward. “She was. And he was. But you know what, Blake?” A humourless smile tugged his mouth. “I became something far greater than the blood I came from.” He leaned in just enough for Blake to feel it.
“What have you done? You were handed everything.”
Blake’s breath hitched, chest rising in sharp, shallow pulls.
I stood.
Slowly.
Wiped my mouth with my napkin.
Stepped from behind the table.
Walked right up until I was two feet from him.
And I looked him dead in the eyes.
“Blake,” I said, voice low, lethal, unwavering, “isn’t karma a bitch?”
Carrie choked so hard on her drink she almost died. “HOLY Penn!” she gasped, laughing like a feral hyena.
Blake staggered back, breath ragged, fists clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know who to swing at first.
Peter stepped toward me, touching the side of my face with a soft, fatherly gesture. “I’ll take Carrie home,” he said gently. He turned to Dane. “Take her inside. Shield her. Hold space with her.”
Carrie grabbed her bag, heels wobbling in the fresh-cut grass as she walked towards me. Her lips found my ear she pulled me in for a hug. “Tomorrow morning. Article on my desk by nine.” She paused, smirking. “But tonight? Get under or on top of that man. Blow off every cobweb you have.”
