“Shut up!” He slammed me into the wall. My nose crunched against the plaster. Pain exploded through my skull, blood filled my mouth, warm and metallic. It dripped onto the floor, staining the hardwood Liam was so proud of.
A broken sob left me. “Somebody help me!” I screeched, voice cracking with desperation. He slammed me into the wall again, holding me there with his weight.
"You left me," he hissed, his breath hitting my ear in hot, uneven puffs that smelled like spoiled coffee and mint gum chewed hours ago. He pressed up against my back, his chest damp through his shirt, skin clammy like fevered wax.
"I had to chase you," he whispered, voice trembling with devotion and rage. "You made me chase you across the whole damn country. But I did it. Nothing can keep us apart, Stevie. Nothing. We were meant to be. Can’t you see?”
I tried to scream again. His hand slapped over my mouth, and the taste of him—sweat and grime and something foully sweet like rotting fruit—hit my tongue. I gagged against his palm.
"Do you know how long I searched?" His fingers dug into my cheeks, forcing my jaw shut. "How much I learned about you? About everyone in your life? Abouthim?”
I only cried harder at the mention of Liam. He hadn’t even been gone for a day, and everything was falling apart. I should’ve listened. Should’ve let him pass the case to someone else. But I thought I was safe here, safe in this bubble we’d created together.
He pressed closer. His body felt wrong—too hot, too damp, trembling with an energy that wasn’t adrenaline but obsession. His skin was slick, not from work or heat, but from nerves, from mania, from not bathing enough to care.
"I saw you," he whispered. A fevered smile twitched across his pale, hollow face—the skin stretched too tight over sharp cheekbones, like he’d stopped eating while he followed me.
That smile made my stomach flip.
"In the barn," he breathed. "I saw everything."
My heart stopped. My blood turned to ice.
His pupils were blown, swallowing almost all the color, eyes glassy with lack of sleep and a kind of hunger that made my knees buckle.
"I know about him," he whispered, voice cracking. "Liam Walker. The cowboy. The hero."
He said Liam’s name like a curse.
"I’ve seen every interview, every picture of you looking at him when you thought no one noticed." His grip tightened. "He thinks he can have you. He thinks he can keep you.”
“But you can’t keep something that’s already been claimed, Stevie. You understand. You know what’s between us.”
He leaned in, breath sour and humid against my cheek. It made my stomach revolt. "He doesn’t know you like I do." His smile stretched too wide, unhinged. "He doesn’t understand the connection. He doesn’t know you were singing to me.Forme."
His face hovered inches from mine, his skin slick and sallow, pores clogged, a sheen of sweat glistening like oil across his forehead. "You’re mine, Stevie.” His voice was reverent. Broken. Certain.
"You’ve always been mine."
I didn’t freeze. I exploded.
The second his fingers loosened in my hair, I twisted and launched myself at him—claws out, teeth bared, every instinct screaming survive. I raked my nails across his face, felt skin split beneath them, hot blood coating my fingertips.
He shrieked—a high, shocked sound—but didn’t let go.
I jerked my head backward, smashing the back of my skull into his nose. The crack was wet and awful. Blood gushed instantly, hot and thick, running over his lips and dripping on my shoulder.
“You littlebitch!” he snarled, voice garbled through the nosebleed.
I tried to bolt while he clutched his face, and managed to fling open the door before he grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked hard enough that the fabric tore at the seams. I stumbled, caught myself on the edge of a table. I snatched up the lamp sitting there and swung.
The lamp crashed against his shoulder, the bulb exploding in a burst of sparks and glass. He screamed, swiped at his eyes, but he was still too strong, too fueled by whatever mania was eating him alive.
I charged again, aiming for his throat this time, but he blocked, twisting, and drove a fist into my ribs so hard the world went silent around the pain.
Something cracked. Fire shot through my side. My knees buckled, breath ripped from my lungs.
I still tried to fight.
