Chapter 21 #2
A surge of hot rage punches through my chest, and I sprint across the floor, launching at Leo. I grab the back of his neck and slam him into the table with enough force to knock half the drinks onto the floor, and I don’t care.
He shouts something, but I’m already throwing a punch, my knuckles smashing against his face. Hard. This fucker knows how I fight; he also knows the only way to get out of the way of my punch is if someone stops me.
“You think you can touch her?” I growl, dragging him back upright only to hit him again. “You touch her?!”
He pushes me away from him and I stumble a few steps back and collide into Olivia.
Glass explodes behind us as something crashes off the tray she’s holding. I hear glass scatter on the floor, but I don't take my eyes off Leo.
“Hayden, stop!” I hear someone shout—Miles, maybe? Mason?
I don’t care, Leo lunges, but I dodge, landing another blow straight to his cheek. Blood spills from his mouth. God this feels so good to kick his ass, this is one man I want dead.
I follow him to the floor, landing on top of him, fist after fist connecting with bone.
“You don’t get to fucking touch her!”
“Hayden!” Mason’s voice cuts through the fog. His hands wrap around my arms, trying to pull me off. “You’ve made your fucking point!” he growls.
Miles moves between us, pushing me back hard with both palms. My chest heaves, rage still burning like fire behind my eyes.
Lincoln, and two others drag Leo off the floor and out of sight. I don’t watch where they take him, hoping it’s out of the club, or even better the basement so I can have more fun with him there.
Cain’s voice booms from somewhere behind me. “Get him upstairs. Now.” I don’t move. “I said move, Hayden. Get the fuck upstairs. Not another goddamn word.”
I don’t look at Olivia, but I can feel her standing behind me, can feel her eyes on me. But if I look at her right now, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might explode again.
I hear Lincoln walking behind us now, talking to Olivia, and again I don’t turn to face her. We get into the office, the door closes behind us, and I get ready for Cain to explode on me.
Cain steps directly in front of me, hands clasped, jaw locked. “You. Calm the fuck down.”
“I am calm,” I snap, even though I know I’m not.
“No, you’re not.” His eyes narrow, and the look on his face I’ve seen too many times, it’s one which scares me. “And I know why. But this—this is not how you handle it. I didn’t train you to be a damn wrecking ball.”
“I know,” I grit out, I know how the training went, it almost killed me. I remember the rules, I remember the way he'd make sure I remember them.
“We don’t attack unless they’re on the list, and you know that.”
“He was going to hurt her.”
“I had two bouncers on him, and Lincoln was headed straight to Olivia. It would’ve been handled—without this bullshit.” The anger echoes in the office, and I hear Olivia behind us. She should not be in the office for this conversation, but it seems like Cain doesn't care.
I shake my head, jaw locked, unable to answer. I hear footsteps approach behind me.
“Do you guys… do you know each other?” Olivia’s voice is quiet, shaken.
Cain doesn’t look at her; his eyes stay on mine. “Hayden, do you want to answer that?”
I exhale sharply, staring at the ground.
“Cain Crawford,” I mutter, voice low. “He’s my cousin.”
I hear Olivia gasp behind me. Then her voice, cracking. “Mr. Cain, I… I’m going to have to hand in my notice, as of today.”
“What?” Cain’s head snaps toward her.
I turn around finally, just in time to see Olivia holding her hand, blood trailing down her wrist.
She cut herself and didn’t say anything.
“Wait, what the fuck is that?” I step toward her, eyes narrowing as I grab her wrist. “You’re bleeding.”
She tries to pull away, but I hold firm, inspecting her palm. A jagged shard of glass is still embedded in her hand.
“You’ve got glass in your hand, Olivia. Why didn’t you say something?!”
“I… I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think? Jesus Christ,” I snap.
Cain sighs. “Hayden, get her cleaned up.”
Wrapping a cloth from a nearby table around her hand gently, I move her out of the office. “Come on.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she follows. I don’t say a word as I lead her through the hallway and into the back room, away from the lights, the music, and the mess I just made. I needed this moment to think and calm down because the rage is still building inside me.
She’s quiet. Too quiet. I can hear her breathing behind me, short, and shallow, like she’s trying not to let it shake.
The door clicks shut behind us. I yank open the cabinet and find the first aid kit. Drop it on the table with a thud and take in a deep breath.
“Sit.” I don’t wait to see if she listens, I just pull a chair out for her, avoiding her eyes. I can’t look at her yet; I can’t answer the question she’s going to ask.
She doesn’t speak as she lowers herself into the chair, kneeling beside her I unfasten the napkin I wrapped around her hand, careful not to press too hard. It’s already soaked through with blood.
Her skin’s warm, and she's shaking a little. Of course she didn’t tell anyone she was hurt. Of course she thought she’d just keep working with glass in her goddamn hand like she has something to prove.
I grab the antiseptic and cotton, soaking it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t want to,” I shoot back.
A pause. And then I meet her eyes, which is a big fucking mistake. Big, glassy, fucking doe eyes that used to be my favorite thing to look at. Now all they do is piss me off.
I look away and press the cotton to her palm. She winces, biting her lip.
“Hurts?” I ask bitterly.
“No,” she lies and I have to laugh.
“Still a shitty liar,” I mutter.
Her lips twitch like she might say something. But she doesn’t. I hold her hand steady as I work, tweezers sliding into the wound. She hisses softly as I pull the first shard free.
“I should let it get infected,” I say, letting out my anger toward the situation. “Let you figure it out the hard way.”
“Then why don’t you?” Her voice cuts through the air like glass. Trying to be braver than she feels, I know her well enough to know she’s scared right now.
I glance up, her chin’s tilted high, but her eyes are anything but steady. She’s trembling.
“Because I’m not like you,” I snap. “I don’t pretend to care and then rip someone’s world apart without blinking.” She flinches. Just barely. But I see it.
“I never wanted to—”
“Don’t.” My voice drops. My fingers freeze mid-motion. “Don’t you dare start that sentence.” I can’t hear it from her again that she had no choice. She had a choice, no matter what was happening I would have helped her through it, I would have figured something out.
Silence, that’s all I get back from her.
I exhale through my nose and focus back on her hand. I hate that I still know every inch of her skin. I hate that I notice the bruise on her wrist from Leo before anyone else did. I hate that I’m kneeling in front of her like I give a shit when I’m supposed to hate her.
But I do give a shit.
And I hate myself for it.
“You were always so careful with life, always lived in your book world.” I’m not really talking to her but just saying what's on my mind.
“Yeah, well.” Her voice is small. “I thought I had someone who’d always catch me.”
I go still.
I was that someone.
Until she destroyed me.
Until I spent my eighteenth birthday sitting in a jail cell being called a rapist for touching the girl I loved.
I press the final bandage onto her palm, maybe a little harder than necessary.
“You’re lucky I didn’t kill him,” I say, standing. My fists still throb from hitting Leo.
“Why didn’t you?” she asks, and the question makes me pause. It’s almost as if she wants me to kill him.
“I don’t know.”
That’s a lie. I do know. Because she would’ve looked at me like I was a monster and no matter how much I want to make her hurt the way I did, I still can’t stomach the thought of her being afraid of me.
I throw the bloodied napkin in the trash and snap the first aid kit shut. She’s watching me, eyes studying every move like she’s trying to memorize me. Like she still wants to know me.
Too late.
“Hayden—
“Not interested in anything you have to say.” I leave the room before I lose it with her. I have no idea which way it would go, either me shouting at her, or fucking her against the door.
All I know is I need to get away from her before I do something I know will hurt me down the line.