His expression curdled. He took a step toward me, too close. Too fast.
“You’re going to regret this,” he said, voice low and shaking with fury.
And for the first time since he showed up, I realized—I wasn’t just scared of him. I was scared for me.
"How?" I asked. I hated that my voice shook. "How does this have anything to do with you?"
“Because it does!” he bellowed, the veins in his neck straining as he threw his arms out, wild with fury. “I deserve to know if you’re running around with some brute who’s going to crush you the same damn way you crushed me!”
The words hit like a slap. My breath caught, but I didn’t let it show. He had no idea the damage he’d done long before Nikolai ever stepped into my world. Long before I even realized I was allowed to want more than fear and survival.
“I gave you everything,” Mikel snarled, his voice breaking at the edges. “And you just walked away like none of it meant anything.”
I stood frozen as he began pacing again, his footsteps pounding like a war drum across the floor—back and forth, caged heat in a small room getting smaller by the second.
“Just answer me!” he barked, spinning on his heel. “Is this real with him? Is it serious?”
The air turned suffocating. The walls pressed in. Every molecule around us buzzed with his rage and my silence.
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My throat had closed around the words, and anything I might’ve said would’ve made it worse—would’ve fed his fire or sparked something far more dangerous.
The quiet between us was louder than any scream.
His voice cracked as he shouted again, eyes burning. “Is it serious or not?!”
I met his gaze, my chin lifting in defiance even though I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. My silence wasn’t cowardice—it was survival. I wouldn’t give him what he wanted just because he was trying to rip it out of me.
He stared at me, chest heaving, fury radiating off him like heat off a summer sidewalk. And underneath that rage was something more unsettling—desperation. Like he wasn’t just angry… he was unraveling.
I held my ground, even as my heart screamed to run.
I leaned against the counter, trying to breathe through the tension swirling in the room. Mikel’s eyes darkened, and I felt it—like a storm gathering strength. He stepped closer, closing the distance until I could see the flecks of rage in his irises.
“Is this what you wanted?” he spat, invading my space. His voice rose, sharp as a blade. “To parade around with him? You think this is some game?”
I pressed my back against the cool surface of the wall behind me, seeking refuge from his intensity. “You’re the one who made it a game, Mikel,” I shot back, voice steady despite the panic bubbling beneath my skin. “You used me like I was a trophy. You embarrassed me?—”
His face twisted with anger, and he took another step forward, towering over me like an impending avalanche. “Embarrassed you? I’m not the one who’s been all cozy with the Reaper.” He sneered.
“You never even took me out!” I fired back, every word gaining momentum. “I spent our relationship tiptoeing around your ego while you threw your weight around like you owned me! And then you cheated on me!”
The silence that followed crackled like electricity, but Mikel didn’t relent; instead, he surged closer still. The air felt thick as he invaded my space further, shoulders tense and menacing.
“Stop pretending like you’re some innocent victim,” he hissed, moving so close that I could feel his breath on my face. “You’re just another girl being used by a guy who only sees you as a prize.”
With every insult that flew from his mouth, heat rose in my chest—a simmering fury that burned hotter than fear.
“Used?” I scoffed bitterly. “I wasn’t just some tool for you to manipulate! You don’t get to rewrite our story because you're uncomfortable with how it ended.”
He grabbed my wrist suddenly—a grip so tight it made my heart race with alarm. The shift from anger to menace was instantaneous.
“Don’t walk away from this,” he said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with venomous threat. “You think you can run off to him and play house? He’ll tire of you soon enough.”
The words sliced through me as if they were meant to wound more than just my pride; they were designed to cut deep into something raw and vulnerable.
“You don’t know anything about him!” I shot back defiantly.
His expression twisted into something ugly and desperate at once. “Is that what you tell yourself? That he cares for you?”
