I just watch her unravel.
She grabs a framed photo from the bookshelf, the one taken outside Vice Ink when I patched in years ago. My brothers lined up in cuts, blood still fresh in the air, my arm slung over Rafael’s shoulder like we thought the world could never touch us.
She hurls it across the room.
The glass cracks when it hits the wall and drops to the floor with a hollow thud.
“You said you loved me,” she spits.
“I do.”
“You said she was politics.”
“She is.”
“Politics don’t ride you in your own bed.”
The words land low and hard.
She reaches for a bottle of rum from the shelf behind the desk and throws it with everything she has.
It shatters against the far wall in a burst of amber and glass.
Liquor scent fills the room, sharp and hot, mixing with the lingering humidity.
“Three years,” she says, voice shaking now. “Three years of you living with your ring on her finger while Rico beat me. And you think I’m supposed to what? Smile and wait while you still fuck her?”
I cross the room in two strides and grab her shoulders before she can reach for something else.
“Stop.”
She fights me instantly.
Her nails dig into my forearms as she twists against my grip. Fury pours off her in waves so strong I can almost feel it in my teeth. Her body is hot under my hands, and the worst part is my body notices. The way she fits. The way she smells like coconut and ocean wind under tonight’s expensive champagne. All I can feel is the ghost of my mouth on hers.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps.
“Stop breaking my shit.”
“Maybe I should break you.”
Something dark flashes through me.
I tighten my grip just enough to hold her still, not hurting, just containing. A restraint I learned the hard way. The kind of restraint that keeps me from becoming the thing she’s afraid of.
Her breathing stutters.
Then she says it.
“You’re just like him.”
The room goes cold.
The city outside keeps humming, but in here everything freezes.
“What did you say?” I ask, voice low.
“Rico,” she throws back. “You think because you don’t use your fists it’s different? You control everything. You lock doors. You decide where I live. You think because you say cariño it makes it sweet.”
