Chapter 8
Tyler
I’m going to kill the bastard.
The words pulse through my skull as I watch Mia disappear from the lunch area, head down, moving fast like she’s trying to outrun the way everyone just looked at her. Like she’s trying to outrun the humiliation Jason fed to the crowd with that polished smile.
Marcus catches my arm. Hard. “Tyler,” he says, low and sharp. “Restrain yourself.”
I jerk free, breath coming too fast. “Did you hear what he just did?”
Alexander is already at my side, calm in the way that makes me want to punch something. “I heard,” he says. “You losing control helps him. That’s what he wants.”
I barely hear him. All I can see is Mia’s face from the moment Jason’s words landed. The way her eyes went glassy. The way her throat worked like she was swallowing blood. The way she tried to keep her dignity while the room turned on her in slow motion.
And the worst part is the guilt twisting in my gut because I know I didn’t help.
I let her think she wasn’t alone, and then I let that snake take the floor and cut her open in front of everyone.
I’m done.
“I’m going over there,” I say.
Marcus steps in front of me. “Ty, no. Not like this.”
I lean in, voice quiet, lethal. “Move.”
Alexander’s eyes narrow, measuring me, then he turns his head slightly as if listening for the tone of the crowd. He exhales.
Jason is still near the front, soaking in the afterglow of his own performance.
Guests cluster around him, smiling, nodding, acting like they just heard something noble instead of something cruel.
Sarah sits frozen at the table, her hands tight around her glass, her face pale in a way that makes my jaw clench. She looks like she wants to vanish.
Jason sees me coming. His smile is still there for half a second.
Then it fades.
Not all at once. It slips, like a mask sliding off a face that forgot it was being watched. His eyes sharpen, and something cold flickers behind them.
“Tyler,” he says warmly, too warmly. “You enjoying the lunch?”
I stop close enough that I can smell his cologne. He’s the kind of man who always smells expensive, always looks pressed and perfect, always appears harmless until you notice he’s watching everyone for weaknesses.
“You don’t get to do that to her,” I say.
He blinks, feigning confusion. “Do what?”
“You know exactly what,” I snap. “You stood up there and painted her as the bitter ex. You made her the problem. You used the whole crowd to humiliate her.”
Jason spreads his hands, smiling again, the practiced version. “I didn’t give names. I spoke about family. Healing. Forgiveness. If someone felt targeted, that’s not on me.”
The way he says it makes my blood boil. Like he’s the victim of my accusation. Like I’m the rude one for pointing out the knife he’s holding.
I step closer. “You looked right at her.”
He lowers his voice, still smiling, still smooth. “Tyler, you’re making a scene.”
“Good,” I say. “Maybe you should feel what that’s like.”
The smile tightens, just a fraction. His eyes go harder. “You’re emotional. I understand. She has history with me. Some people have trouble letting go. I would never speak ill of her, not publicly. I wish her well.”
I laugh. “That’s rich. You wish she would stop being a mirror that shows everyone what you really are.”
A few heads turn. Nearby conversations falter. People love a confrontation when it’s not theirs.
Jason’s voice stays calm, but the warmth drains out of it. “Watch yourself.”
“Oh, I’m watching,” I say. “You make women think choosing you is their idea.”
Now people are fully looking. Chairs scrape. A small semicircle forms without anyone admitting they’re doing it. The wedding planner is somewhere on the edge, eyes wide, not sure whether to intervene. Someone whispers Jason’s name like this is a show and they paid for a seat.
Marcus appears behind me, a steady presence. Not stopping me, but ready.
Jason’s smile returns, but his eyes don’t match it at all. “Tyler, this is embarrassing. For you.”
I lean in, close enough that my voice can drop without losing bite. “You want embarrassing? Try doing what you did to Mia again. Try it once more. And see how charming you look when the truth finally catches up with you.”
For a moment, the cold in his eyes is so clear I almost feel grateful. It’s proof. It’s the real Jason, peeking out.
Then he covers it, smooth as ever. He lifts his chin and turns slightly toward the gathering crowd, giving them the gentle, wounded look of a man being attacked for no reason.
“I think we should all calm down,” he says, projecting just enough for the onlookers. “This is a celebration.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Because that right there is exactly how he does it.
He leans in a fraction, dropping his voice so it’s just for me, but the threat in it is unmistakable. “You Birch boys love to play hero. It’s adorable. Tell me, Tyler, are you always this emotional when you don’t get your way?”
My jaw tightens. “This isn’t about me.”
He spreads his hands slightly, still performing for the crowd. “Then what is it about? Mia? You met her yesterday and suddenly you are her champion?”
I feel Marcus behind me, a steady presence, but I don’t look away from Jason.
“You hurt her,” I say, loud enough for the closest guests to hear. “You did it on purpose.”
Jason’s smile thins. “You know what your problem is, golden boy? You can’t grow up. You think life is a game you can win with charm and a good story. Stick to playing games instead of real man’s business.”
Something ugly flickers behind his eyes, cold and mean.
Then he lowers his voice again, like he can’t help himself. Like he wants me to know he has teeth. “Speaking of business,” he murmurs, “how is the Birch Brothers charity work going? Still missing funds? Or did you boys finally learn how to keep your hands clean?”
My pulse spikes.
That’s not a random insult. That’s a dagger slid under the tablecloth.
I keep my face steady, but I feel Alexander and Marcus stiffen behind my back.
Jason’s gaze locks onto mine, smug now, satisfied at the reaction he got. He has found a pressure point.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
Jason’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He glances toward the gathered guests, then back at me with fake sympathy. “It would be a shame if family secrets came out during such a beautiful week. Wouldn’t it?”
The crowd is close enough now that I can see curiosity blooming, noses angling toward scandal like flowers toward sun.
I feel my temper surge again, but it’s different now. It’s not just rage for Mia. It’s the realization that Jason is not only cruel, he is armed. He’s already building leverage.
I step closer, lowering my voice, making it deadly quiet between us. “You don’t get to threaten my family,” I say.
He leans in slightly, voice still sweet. “I’m joining this family. It would be a shame if someone made it harder for everyone to be happy.”
My body moves before my brain finishes the thought. I’m right there, almost face-to-face, the space between us nothing, my rage so hot it blurs the edges of the world.
“Tyler.” Marcus’s voice cuts in behind me, sharp. I barely hear it.
Jason’s eyes gleam, daring me. Begging me.
And then a hand grabs my forearm.
A smaller hand. Warm, trembling, but firm.
“Come on,” Mia says, breathless. “Let’s go.”
The sound of her voice hits me like a punch to the chest. It yanks me back from the ledge. I turn my head and there she is, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, trying so hard to look steady when she’s clearly shaking.
“Mia—” I start.
“Now,” she says, and she tugs again.
I let her.
Not because I’m done. Not because Jason doesn’t deserve to be planted into the snow. I let her take me because her fingers are trembling around my arm and I can’t stand the idea of being another man who makes her world feel unsafe.
We move fast, away from the tables, away from the murmurs, away from Jason’s smug little gravity field. My brothers follow at a distance, watching, letting me go because they can see in my posture that I’m hanging on by a thread.
We reach the entrance of the lodge, the heavy doors swallowing the noise behind us.
Mia releases me only when we’re inside, only when the warm air hits her face and she can breathe. She presses a hand to her stomach like she might be sick.
I turn to her, my voice rough. “Why did you come back?”
Her eyes flick up. “I was in the bathroom,” she says, swallowing hard. “One of the staff told me there was some commotion. I had no idea it would be you.”
“Hey,” I say, trying for a smile I don’t fully feel. “I only look harmless.”
Her mouth twitches, but it doesn’t quite become a smile. She looks exhausted. Hurt. Furious. Like she’s holding herself together with duct tape.
“I can walk you up,” I say, gentler now. “If you want.”
She hesitates. Pride flashes through her expression, then fades into something tired. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m not helpless.”
“I know,” I say. “I just…want to be there.”
We take the stairs. The lodge is quieter up here, the thick carpet absorbing sound, the windows throwing pale daylight across the hallway. I can feel her beside me, the tension in her body, the careful way she holds her chin up like she’s daring the world to see her break.
At her door, she fumbles with the key card once, then again.
“You’re shaking,” I say softly.
“I’m not,” she lies, and it’s almost funny because she absolutely is.
She gets the door open and steps inside, turning to face me like she intends to end this neatly. Like she can just close the door on the entire mess of today.
“Thanks,” she says. “Goodbye, Tyler.”
She reaches for the door, but I don’t let her close it. I slide my foot forward, stopping it gently, not forceful, but definite.
Mia looks down at my shoe, then back up at me, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”