Chapter Eight #3
There won’t be anything rushed about it this time.
No quick fix. No clean ending. I’ll savor it.
I’ll savor the fear in his eyes when he realizes he’s not untouchable.
I’ll savor the terror when he understands that the girl he broke is no longer alone.
I’ll savor every last drop of him until there’s nothing left to hurt her.
And she will finish it.
She will take back everything he stole from her. Piece by fucking piece.
I watch her smile at her brother, cheeks tinted pink, eyes soft for the first time tonight.
Crane watches her too, but his expression is twisted, furious, possessive.
His hand is still bandaged from the glass he shattered earlier.
I hope it hurts, throbs. I hope it reminds him of the moment he realized she is no longer his to command.
He shifts, trying to catch her eye again.
I lean back in my chair, letting my arm rest behind her, letting him see exactly where she belongs. His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare. His fury simmers beneath the surface.
Good.
Let him boil.
Let him burn.
Let him feel every ounce of the rage he once inflicted on her.
Because tonight is the last time he will ever look at her with ownership.
And when I’m done with him, she will never have to look over her shoulder again.
The party thins out in waves, guests drifting toward the exits with polite goodbyes and half-finished drinks.
I sit back in my chair, bourbon in hand, watching Mara from behind the rim of the glass.
She laughs at something her father says, eyes bright, cheeks warm, shoulders relaxed. Pure happiness.
For a moment, she looks untouched by the night.
Then her gaze shifts. Past me, behind me, to him.
Her entire body changes. Her back straightens. Her shoulders lock. Her posture turns defensive, braced, ready to run or fight. I don’t need to turn around to know who ruined her mood. I feel it in the air. I feel it in her breathing. I feel it in the way her fingers curl against her dress.
“Do you want to head home tonight, Bunny?” I ask, taking another slow sip of bourbon.
She doesn’t answer immediately. She glances at her father.
He’s looking behind me now too, eyes narrowing, calculating.
He felt her stiffen. He felt her panic. He sees the fear she tries to hide.
And he can’t understand why his daughter is terrified of a man he considers a colleague, a friend, a respected senator.
He looks back at her. Her eyes plead with him. Stop digging.
Not here. Not now.
“Tell. Me. Everything.” His voice is clipped, sharp, barely containing the rage simmering beneath it.
My body tenses. This is the moment she’s been dreading. The moment she never wanted to face. The moment her father finally sees the cracks she’s been hiding.
“Not here.”
Her voice is small, tight, trembling. She stands quickly, the fabric of her dress swaying across the marble floor as she moves. She doesn’t wait for anyone. She heads straight toward her father’s study, steps fast, shoulders rigid, breath uneven.
Her father lingers for a moment. His gaze locks onto Crane. Something shifts in his expression. Something dark. Something dangerous. Then he follows her.
Jaxon stands immediately, jaw tight, eyes burning with questions he hasn’t asked yet. He looks at me, and I nod once.
We follow.
I walk behind Mara, close enough to catch her if she stumbles, close enough to stop anyone who tries to intercept her. The hallway feels colder than the rest of the house. The lights hum overhead. The air thickens with every step.
Mara
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Kade is the last one to enter the study. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing us inside. The sound echoes through the room, final and heavy, like the start of something we can’t undo.
The study feels smaller than I remember.
The dark wood panels press in around me.
The scent of old books and my father’s cologne wraps around my throat.
My pulse hammers against my ribs. My hands shake.
I can’t breathe properly. I can’t think.
I can’t look at anyone for too long without feeling the past clawing at my skin.
My father stands near his desk, jaw clenched, eyes burning with questions he’s finally brave enough to ask.
Jaxon hovers near the door, arms crossed, gaze flicking between me and Kade, trying to piece together the tension he walked into.
Kade stays close to me, not touching, but near enough that I feel him like a shield at my back.
I swallow hard. My voice barely works. “Dad… please. Not like this.”
He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “Petal. I saw your face out there. I saw the way you looked at him. I saw the fear.” His voice cracks. “Tell me what he did.”
My stomach twists. My vision blurs. I grip the edge of a chair to steady myself. The room tilts. The memories press against the inside of my skull, begging to spill out, begging to drown me.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“You can.” His voice is soft now. Breaking. “You have to.”
Jaxon steps forward, eyes wide, voice low. “Mara… what happened?”
I shake my head, tears burning behind my eyes. “I can’t say it. I can’t make it real again.”
Kade moves then. Just a step. Just enough that I feel his presence wrap around me like armor. His voice is quiet, steady, meant only for me.
“You’re not alone, Bunny.”
The words hit something deep inside me. Something fragile. Something that has been locked away for years.
My father’s face twists with pain. “Was it Crane?”
The name alone makes my breath hitch. My throat closes. My knees nearly buckle. I don’t answer. I don’t have to. The silence is enough.
Jaxon swears under his breath, the sound sharp and violent. “That fucking senator?”
My father’s hands curl into fists. His voice drops to a growl. “Tell me exactly what he did to you.”
I shake my head again, harder this time. “Dad, please. I can’t say it. I can’t.”
Kade steps closer, his hand brushing mine, grounding me. “You don’t have to say everything tonight,” he murmurs. “Just enough so they understand.”
My chest tightens. My vision swims. The words scrape up my throat like broken glass.
“He hurt me,” I whisper.
I notice their jaws clench. Every pair of eyes on me turns murderous. My father. My brother. Kade. All of them wearing the same expression, the same barely contained rage, the same promise of violence.