I still haven’t found the trigger that will snap her back to reality, back to me.
“Because you’re weak.”
The word hangs in the air for a heartbeat. Two. Thr?—
Her gaze sharpens, pure incandescent rage sparking in her eyes.
One moment, she’s sitting motionless on the sofa. The next, she’s lunging at me with a feral howl. Her body slams into mine with surprising force, knocking me off balance. We crash to the floor, her landing on top of me.
Curled hands claw at my face, my chest, anywhere she can reach.
There’s no technique to her attack, just raw, unbridled emotion she’s bottled up for fifteen years.
Stopping her would be easy. I could flip her onto her back and pin her in seconds.
But I don’t.
I earned this. And she needs the release.
I let her rage. She pounds her fists against my chest, screaming incoherent accusations.
This unfiltered, uncontrolled reaction gives me a peek at the real Chloe breaking through the cheerful veneer. And the real Chloe might finally provide the truth.
Her fist connects with my jaw. The solid hit snaps my head to the side. My teeth cut into the inside of my cheek, drawing blood.
The pain is a clarifying reminder of what’s at stake.
And how far I’m willing to go for her.
“I amnotweak!” she shouts, inches from my face. The defiant roar of a tiger. Even as tears stream down her cheeks. “I survived! I survived when grown adults didn’t. I got out of there and survived all on my own!”
Hot pride sizzles in my chest. She’snotweak.
I knew from the beginning that—even in that silly yellow dress—she was more than that sunny kindergarten teacher.
But as her tears fall hot against my skin, and her body quivers with rage, I realize I’ve miscalculated.
Not because I pushed too far, but because I haven’t just unleashed her anger.
I’ve extracted her soul-crushing truth.
Chapter 24
Kolya
Chloe shoves off me and retreats as far as the living room will allow.
I climb to my feet but give her space. A light in her eyes—berserker rage—confirms she’s not done yet.
Without looking, she grabs a vase from the table and hurls it straight at my head.
I duck.
This is real, not a performance or a calculated move. She’s lashing out with everything she possesses. Childhood terror. Adult fury. All the things she’s masked behind smiles and sweet talk in the years since.
A beat passes before she launches the next missile, just long enough for me to take a breath.
This time, a thick hardback book soars through the air. The dust jacket flies off before the rigid spine catches me in the shoulder.
