I watch them like a predator tracking a wounded animal.
Icanstill kill him. I’ll find him later and finish what I started. I don’t care if it takes a day or a year. He touched her. He thought he could kiss her. He fucking tried.
“Damian, look at me,” Lo says.
Her voice tugs at the center of my gravity. My eyes snap back to hers, and everything inside me slows. She’s still crying. Her fingers trembling where they rest on my skin.
“You’re mine,” I growl, low and harsh. “I don’t care who you were walking with, what you were thinking—you’remine.You hear me?”
She swallows hard, lips parting, but doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. She’s here. That’s enough for now.
I step back, jaw clenched, blood roaring in my ears. “Get upstairs.”
She flinches but doesn’t move. Her eyes flash, wild and wet. “No,” she breathes.
“Now,” I snarl. “I’m not asking.”
“Yeah? And I’m not listening.” She plants her feet like she’s ready for a fight.
A small crowd’s gathered, just a few people, wide-eyed and murmuring. One of them steps closer, a woman clutching her phone. “Do you need us to call someone? The cops?”
Marlowe doesn’t look away from me, doesn’t even blink. “No,” she says sharply.
I echo her a second later, voice low and cold. “No.”
There’s a pause. A beat of discomfort, of curiosity, of everyone frozen, unsure what the fuck to do with us. Then they start to drift off, one by one, glancing back like they’re leaving the site of a car crash, fascinated, shaken, not entirely sure it’s safe.
Then I hear Neve’s voice cutting through the tension, low and harsh. “Nathan’s fine, Marlowe. Don’t worry about him.”
“Nathan?” I grind the name between my teeth like it’s something rotten. “Your ex?” I spit, turning toward her. “Thatwas your fucking ex?”
Before I can say more, Bridger steps in. He places a firm hand on my shoulder, a silent warning that only pisses me off more. My body tenses, and it takes all my strength to stop myself from knocking his teeth out for touching me.
“Hey,” he says low, leaning in. “Let’s go upstairs. People are watching. Someone’s going to call the cops.”
I don’t care. Let them.
Marlowe straightens, chin lifted, voice low and tight. “No.I’mgoing upstairs.” She points at me, sharp and unblinking. “Yougo cool off somewhere else.” It’s not a suggestion. She turns and walks toward the apartment without looking back, her hair whipping in the wind.
And all I can do is stand there, fists clenched, jaw locked, watching her walk away from me. Again.
Bridger waits until she’s out of sight. Then he steps in front of me, eyes blazing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps. “You’re spiraling.” His voice isn’t raised, but it’s hard andcutting. His jaw is tight. I can see the line twitch under his cheek. He’s one second from punching me just to get me under control.
I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know what to say that would make it make sense. Not the noise in my head. Not the way her eyes looked when she saidnoto me. Not the way she walked away and made it feel like I didn’t even have the right to stop her. I can’t explain what it feels like to be drowning in your own skin, to want something so much it makes you violent.
Bridger shakes his head, like I’m already too far gone. “Get your shit together,” he mutters. “You’re not just spiraling, D. You’re self-destructing.”
“Just walk away, Bridger,” I grind out.
“Uh, no,” he snaps. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing. Are you thinking if you push her hard enough, she’ll walk away and save you the heartbreak? You know that’s not protecting her, right? That’s just sabotage.”
I turn away.
Bridger presses in. “You did it with Laura. You shut down, and when she finally left, you let yourself believe she was never really in it. You?—”
“You don’t know anything about what happened with Laura, so shut your fucking mouth.”
His expression shifts—creases at the brow, mouth parting just slightly. He heard something in my words he wasn’t expecting. “What do you mean?” he asks, slow, careful.
