Marcus leaned in a bit. Not enough to get in my personal space, but enough to test my boundaries. "It's cute, though, watching you play the hero." He gestured vaguely into the flat behind me. "But someone like him doesn't need rescue. He needs someone to manage him."
That one just about did it.
I stepped a little closer, anger flooding my veins. "You're done. Get out."
His eyes narrowed a tiny bit, and I saw the first crack in the mask. That pompous little smile twisted into something meaner. Darker. But before I could fully clock the change, his fist flew at my face.
I didn't expect him to actually hit me. His knuckles landed hard enough to make me stagger half a step back, and my hand shot out to catch myself at the doorframe.
He took another swing, but this time I caught his wrist, twisted, and spun him around. I shoved him forward until he slammed face-first into the opposite wall.
He hit with a solid thud and a surprised grunt. His body jerked as he tried to get free, but I tightened my grip. I yanked his arm up as far as it would go and pinned him with mine braced tight across his back.
"I said you're done," I growled, pressing him into thecold plaster.
He twisted hard and tried to shove back, but he couldn't get leverage. "You think you're gonna scare me off?" he spat through clenched teeth. "You don't call the shots, Elias. I own him."
"No, you don't," I shot back. "You never did."
He thrashed with one last burst of fight, wild and clumsy. Not anger or desperation. Something was unravelling now that he wasn't in control.
I yanked him back and shoved him down the hall. He stumbled a few steps but managed to catch himself before he hit the floor. Immediately, he whirled around and straightened to posture like the psychopathic peacock he was. Chin up. Shoulders squared. Rage carved into every line of his face.
"You're gonna regret this," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "You'rebothgonna regret this."
I clenched my fist, the heat burning through my chest begging me to just knock him out cold. But I didn't. I wouldn't stoop to his level.
Instead, I spat, "Get out."
He held my stare for a second too long. Maybe he couldn't decide whether to try another swing or spit in my face. But then he forced his shoulders to relax, gave a stiff jerk of his jaw, and stormed away without a word.
I didn't move until I heard the door slam shut behind him. My hands shook slightly from the confrontation, and every muscle in my body was coiled tight. I tried to breathe past the adrenaline rushing through me, but then the door across the hall creaked open.
Mrs Cavanagh peeked out at me, one eyebrow raised and her mouth pressed into a line I couldn't quite read. Not disapproving, exactly. More like she was gauging how close things had come to blood on the walls.
That's when I realised I'd slammed Marcus into the wallright next to her flat. Probably rattled her front door.
I straightened and forced my voice to steady. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bother you."
She just waved a hand. "Oh, don't fuss. That ferret-faced bastard had it coming."
I blinked.
"It's about time someone knocked the smug out of him. Shame you didn't aim lower." She gave a quick wink and a smile, then shut the door again with a decisive click.
For the first time all day, my tension eased. Just a bit. Enough that I could let out a small laugh under my breath before I stepped back into Rowan's flat.
I shut the door behind me with more care than I'd shown when I threw it open. The locks clicked into place, but I didn't move right away. My heart still hammered in my chest, and I needed a second to calm myself down.
Then I glanced at Rowan – and I froze.
He sat exactly where I left him, but his posture had changed. He wasn't slumped anymore. His eyes were wide, locked on me, and I could see the tension in every inch of his frame.
Shit. He saw all that.
I dropped my gaze as my pulse spiked for a whole different reason. Of course I'd scared him. Me storming out, slamming Marcus into the wall, getting in his face. I'd gone in furious, and Rowan – God, Rowan had survived someone who looked just like that when he lost control.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and backed up a step, as if that might help soften what he'd seen. "Sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to – I shouldn't have gone at him like that."
