James

Like an out-of-body experience, I watch her leave. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Out of reach.

And I just stand here, fists clenched, jaw locked so tight my teeth ache. My heart’s hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to break free, probably to chase after her. Or after him.

Tyler. 

I can’t even breathe right. Hell, I’m afraid to try, because if I do—if I exhale even once—I don’t know what I’ll unleash.

I had no choice. 

That’s the story I keep telling myself. Over and over. Like some pathetic fucking mantra.

She saw too much. 

She pitied me. 

She was trying to fix me. 

I had to push her away. Before I lost control. Before I hurt her worse.

It was the right call. The smart move. With all this poison in my blood, she’s better off. She needed space. I needed space. We both did. That look in her eyes—like I was broken, like I needed saving—I had to shut it down.

I did what was best. 

For both of us.

Only now, every word I threw at her won’t stop echoing in my head. A chorus of how I just destroyed the one thing that made any of this shit bearable.

The crack in her voice. 

The tear on her cheek. 

The way she didn’t fight back. Didn’t defend herself. Just…walked away.  

And the longer I stand here, drowning in the memory, the more that fake-ass logic starts to unravel. 

Then—click. 

The soft, distant sound of a door closing upstairs cuts through the silence.

It’s done. She’s gone. 

But instead of relief, the thought only stokes the fire already raging through me. With nowhere to put it, I turn to Zeb—half hoping for a fight, half bracing for whatever reprimand I’m sure is sitting on his tongue.

I expect a glare. A strongly worded warning. Maybe just more silence. 

What I get is neither. 

What I get… is impact.

His hands slam into my chest, and I hit the wall so hard my spine cracks. The air rips from my lungs in a grunt, and suddenly I’m gasping for breath.

At only 5’ 8”, Zeb’s the smallest of us, but what he lacks in height, he more than makes up for in raw muscle. Which explains why I’m struggling just to get my lungs to expand. 

Even as I gasp for air, I don’t fight his hold. Don’t raise a hand. Don’t shove back. Because I earned this. Every fucking bit of it. Even the enraged monster in me knows that much.

Zeb steps in so close, his breath scorches across my face. His fists are balled in the collar of my shirt, knuckles white, and I don’t miss the tremble in his grip. He’s barely holding himself back.   

But I can take it. 

Whatever hell he wants to rain down on me, I won’t flinch. I won’t cower.

But then I meet his eyes—and Jesus. 

I expected rage. Fury. The kind of pissed off I know how to handle. 

But this? 

I don’t know what the fuck to do with this.

He’s looking at me like he doesn’t recognize me. Like he’s disappointed. Betrayed. Like whatever version of me he believed in just went up in flames.

When he opens his mouth, I brace, trying to hold on to the fire still burning in my gut. Just enough not to flinch. Not to break. Not to let him see all the things I’m trying to hide. 

The guilt.

The fear.

The hurt.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls, voice low and lethal. Like he’s promising retribution if I give the wrong answer.  

But why the hell would I answer? 

Especially when I don’t even know myself. 

And maybe that’s why in the next breath—

Crack.

His fist slams into my jaw, and my head snaps back against the wall. Stars explode behind my eyes. My teeth rattle. Copper floods my mouth. 

But I don’t stagger. 

I don’t fall. 

Because I’ve endured worse. Been beaten worse. Survived worse. 

Years of fists from the adults who were supposed to protect me. Two years in an underground fighting ring that almost killed me. It’s how I learned to take a hit and still keep standing. 

And since I deserve it anyway, I want it. 

His anger. His judgment. The pain stinging in my jaw. I take it all like the monster I am, letting it feed the self-hatred still burning in my veins. Because that pain? It’s a million times easier to carry than whatever the hell I’m feeling right now. Easier to bear than the Annelly and Tyler-sized holes throbbing in my chest. 

My jaw clicks as I reset it, slow and controlled. Then I meet his stare, my teeth clenched. 

“You get one.” I grind out. “Because I earned it.” 

I pause. 

Take a breath. 

Then lower—darker—I warn, “But the next punch you throw might be your fucking last.”

Zeb doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look remotely affected by the threat.

Me, on the other hand? 

I wish he’d swing again. 

Because with every second that passes, the rage inside me is dying out. Smothered by my guilt. Drenched in my shame.

He still says nothing, so I clench my fists to keep from lashing out. And when I speak again, the words come out like blades. Sharp. Hard. Meant to cut deep. Meant to hurt enough that they’ll start to feel like the truth. 

“You think I don’t know what I just did?” I let out a bitter laugh. “She was looking at me like I was broken. Like I needed saving. So I had to show her. Had to prove she was right. That I’m too far gone. That I’m not worth a single second of her fucking time. It was only a matter of time before I hurt her. This way, it’s done. She knows who the fuck I am now.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, they taste like ash.

Because it’s bullshit. 

All of it.

I didn’t push her away to protect her. I did it because I was afraid. Afraid she’d see everything I’ve spent my whole life hiding. I did it to protect myself.

“You expect me to believe that was you being honorable?” He steps closer, and I swear the whole room squeezes around us. “No. That wasn’t honorable, James. You, talking to her like that? That was abuse. That was bullying. That was you making her feel small just so you could feel in control.”

My spine stiffens.

But he’s not done. 

Hell, it looks like he’s just getting started.

“That’s the same shit those bastards did to your mom. The same damn thing you swore you’d never do to a woman. And yet here you are.”

The words lash across my skin like a whip, and for the first time, I flinch. Because—fuck. He’s not wrong. But he’s not exactly right, either. 

Those men—the johns, the dealers—they hurt my mom to get what they wanted. They used her. Destroyed her. Whereas me? I’m just trying to protect Annelly.

Another lie, my mind whispers.

But my pride… my pride won’t let me back down.

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, but Zeb cuts me off with a single word.

“Don’t.” His voice booms like a warning shot. “Don’t you dare insult me by feeding me some noble-sounding bullshit about doing the right thing. Because we both know that’s not what that was.”

He takes another step.

Closer.

Angrier.

“You didn’t lash out to protect her. You lashed out because she saw you. Because she cared. Because she was there—in your lowest, most vulnerable moment—and that scared the living hell out of you.” 

His voice cracks, not from weakness, but from something deeper. Old rage. Old pain from wounds that never really healed.

“I watched my father do that shit to my mother. I watched him twist his fear into insults, his shame into fists. I saw the way he looked at her when she cried, like she was the problem. Not him. Not the pain he’d caused her because he couldn’t face his own goddamn demons.”

He breathes through clenched teeth, like every word is acid on his tongue.

“You know what that did to me. You know how I feel about weak men who hurt the people they’re supposed to protect. So if you think I’m going to stand by and watch you treat her like that?” He shakes his head. “Not a fucking chance.” 

He jerks his head toward the stairs. A silent reminder of who’s up there hurting because of me.

“Keep this up and you’re going to lose her. And the worst part?” His eyes narrow. “You’re too busy feeding the anger inside you to even realize what you’re throwing away.”

His eyes are glassy now, but he doesn’t blink. 

“Don’t be that guy, James. You’ve come too fucking far, fought to goddamn hard, to go back there. To become the man you would’ve been if Ben hadn’t stepped in to help you.”

My breath hitches.

I swallow hard against the sob rising in my throat. My chest feels like it’s caving in—like something inside me is clawing, twisting, trying to tear its way out.

First, Tyler. Telling me he was ready. That he wanted to stand on his own. That he didn’t need me to carry him anymore.

And now this.

Her. Crying. Walking away. Leaving me… because I hurt her.

Zeb’s still watching me. Still waiting. And it’s like his words cracked something wide open inside me. Something I can’t shove back down this time.

I shake my head. When I finally speak, it scrapes out low. Broken. 

“You don’t know what it’s like.” I stare at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “The rage. What I’m trying to hold back.” 

It’s not an excuse. 

It’s the only truth I have left. 

“She’s better off.” I bite the words out like glass. Jagged. Shattered. “I’m no good for her. She’s already been through enough.”

There. I said it.

Except now that the words are out there, it feels like the end of the world. Because it feels like I’ve already lost everything that ever mattered. 

Zeb doesn’t back down. He doesn’t soften or take pity on me. Instead, he steps even closer. Not to hit me this time, but to make me see. To twist the knife just a little deeper.

“You’re right.” He lets it hang there. Lets it land, like he wants me to feel every goddamn syllable. “She is too damn good for you. And after tonight?” He shakes his head, disgust curling at the edge of his mouth. “I’m not sure she’ll ever look at you the same again.”

The words slam into me like a runaway freight train because I know he’s right. I felt it the second she turned to walk away.

But Zeb’s not done.

Not even close.

“You made her a promise, James. You told her she was safe with you. That you’d protect her. And tonight?” He pauses—just long enough for the truth to rip clean through. “You proved your word means shit. She can’t trust you. She shouldn’t.”

I stagger under the weight of it.

Every part of me wants to push back, to argue, yell, do something to fight off the blow. But I don’t move. Because the fight’s been drained out of me. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. That without Tyler, without her… I’ve got nothing left to fight for.

“You’re losing her,” Zeb says quietly, like he can read my thoughts. “One piece of her soft heart at a time… and you don’t even see it.” His voice drops to a whisper. “And by the time you do, by the time you’re ready to fix it… It might be too late.”

And just like that, the floor gives out beneath me. Because he’s right. I’m running out of chances.

Zeb exhales one sharp, final breath, then shakes his head like he’s done. Like, I’m not even worth the fight anymore.

“Fix it.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Or you’re off her team. You hear me? You’ll stay in Cabin One—out of her sight—and Dominick and I take over her protection detail.”

He steps back, jaw clenched so tight I can almost hear his teeth grinding.

“She deserves better. And right now? That sure as hell isn’t you.”

Then he turns on his heel and storms out the front door, slamming it behind him hard enough to make the whole damn house shake.

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