I wanted to hit something. I’d spent years making sure I didn’t lose it. Letting someone else have that kind of power? No. Never again. I pushed the urge down, but it poured out my voice anyway: “You have no idea what feeling alive is. You spend your life running from shit. That’s your whole personality.”
“And you? What are you running from?” Her voice snapped. She didn’t care about the answer. I saw it in her eyes, the way she already loaded her next insult behind her teeth.
I leaned in, shadows slicing my face, letting her see how little anything mattered. “Nothing. I take pain. I take whatever I get and keep going. Unlike you.”
She flinched, anger or maybe fear. I didn’t care. She looked up at me, eyes bright and wet like a wounded animal. “You’re just your father’s son. That’s the only thing real about you.”
Something inside me split. I grabbed her chin, not hard, just enough that she had to look up, had to really see me. No ducking. No hiding. Just her and me and the truth between our teeth.
Pretty. Even all scratched up, covered in filth and snot, she was still fucking pretty. Disgusting how I noticed. More disgusting how it twisted under my ribs, that urge to break her down and keep her standing up. Both.
Her lips parted as if she might spit in my face. “Let go.” Fingernails dug into my wrist, not enough to matter. Just enough to show she’d never stop fighting.
“Didn’t think you had any fight left.” I leaned in, just to crowd her space, let her choke on my shadow. “Feels like you’d rather die out here than admit you can’t handle a little pain.”
She glared, eyes heated and venomous, but I could see the tremor at the edge of her jaw. “You have no idea what I can handle, Caiden. You never did. You just made sure I was hurting.”
I squeezed tighter. “Don’t flatter yourself. Hurting you was just for sport.”
“Yeah?” She bit the word in half. “You always needed a punching bag, didn’t you? Like father, like son. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”
Her words landed hard, but I didn’t let her see. I twisted mymouth, bared my teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. “Keep talking about my father. See how far that gets you.”
I could feel her pulse, wild-insect flutter beneath my thumb. Adrenaline crackled between us. I wanted to shove her. Or pull her close. Maybe both.
Instead, I let go. Turned away. Pretended it didn’t matter that for a split second I was tempted to do a hell of a lot more than grab her chin.
She crumpled for half a breath, like she meant to fall. Of course she didn’t.
More walking. Her behind me, always stumbling, always catching up. I slowed, didn’t let her see. I was losing strength too. Sun blinding through the canopy, sweat dripping, gnats crawling everywhere. Hell.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” she finally muttered, “the starvation, or your attitude.”
It almost made me laugh. Almost. “You love complaining. Secretly, you’d be lost if you couldn’t bitch about me.”
That got her. She made a sound. A broken laugh, almost a sob. “Classic Caiden. Can’t even let me hate you in peace.”
“Who said I wanted peace?” My tone rose. I liked the way her jaw clenched, the way her glare boiled.
“Then what do you want?” She stopped in her tracks, goading me with the question. “You want to see me broken? Dead? Or do you just need an audience when when you go off the rails?”
Her voice knifed through the trees. I clenched my teeth, tried not to let the venom leak out, but she made it impossible.
Always did.
“I need you to shut up,” I bit out. “That’s it. That’s all I want from you.”
She barked a dead laugh, yanked her hair out of her face. “What, reality too much for you? Thought you liked watching me suffer.”
“I don’t like anything about this,” I snarled,voice low. “You think I want to be stuck out here with you? If I could trade you for a rat’s corpse I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
She wheeled around on the trail, jaw set. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly top of my list either.”
Good. I wanted her angry. I wanted her gnashing her teeth and throwing those looks over her shoulder, the ones that promised she’d eat my heart if she got close enough.
“You want a round of applause for being so fucking stoic?” she spat. “Acting like you’re better than suffering. You’re not.”
“Please.” I flashed her a look, all teeth. “I’m built for suffering. It’s the only thing that ever made sense.”
