Page 107 of Can You Take It?

Victor’s smirk deepens, but he doesn’t answer. I’m not going to inflate his ego by asking what was really on that drive since he isn’t going to tell me anyway. It was just his ploy to make me a suspect in Liam’s murder. I can feel myself spiraling out.

That’s when I lose it. I throw a tantrum. A full-blown tantrum, throwing anything within reach. Papers go flying, and I don’t give a damn about the mess.

“I won’t be your pawn!” I yell.

Victor finally stands up, looking more annoyed than concerned. “Enough, Izel.”

But enough isn’t in my vocabulary at the moment. I keep going, tearing through his carefully organized space.

That’s when Victor gets handsy, and not in the way you’d imagine. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me back. The pain shoots through me, but I refuse to let him see it. I glare at him.

He leans in, and before I can react, his hand slaps across my face. The stinging pain echoes in the room, and for a moment, the world stops. I’m not about to let Victor think he can break me. I straighten up, wiping away the trickle of blood from my lip.

“Is that all you got?” I taunt.

Victor’s fury lurks just beneath the surface. He’s always been the type to throw punches to assert control, and I’ve taken enough of them to know his blows can only hurt me so much. But this time, there’s a different vibe in his eyes.

“Is this bravado because of that fed agent you’re screwing?” he sneers.

I tense up, and it’s like Victor can read my thoughts. He knows about Richard, about the feelings I’ve developed for him. And he wouldn’t think twice about using him as leverage to keep me in line. Just like he’s used my—

“I’ll make sure that agent of yours knows what pain feels like.”

He’s voicing my darkest fears. I’ve had it up to here. I’m pushed to the limit, and I’m not about to let Victor keep pulling my strings.

Out of desperation, I deliver a swift kick to his balls, and he staggers back, letting go of me. I seize the opportunity, grabbinghim by the collar. My voice drops to a low, menacing whisper as I give him a piece of my mind.

“If you so much as breathe wrong in his direction,” I hiss, “your screams will be the last sounds you make before I redecorate this place with your blood.”

Victor might think he won this round, but I’m not done fighting. He underestimates the strength of a pissed-off woman, and I’m ready to prove him wrong.

I release him, and he staggers backward, gasping for air. He’s about to open his mouth, probably to throw another threat my way, but I’m not giving him the chance. Not this time.

“You’ve taught me a lot over the years, Victor,” I say, stepping back, my eyes never leaving his. “And believe me, I’ll use every single thing you showed me to protect him.”

I turn on my heel, my back to him now, but I throw one final glance over my shoulder. “And just so you know, I’ll make it hurt.”

I storm out of Victor’s pretentious study, slamming the door behind me. A five-hour drive to Hollowbrook was useless. Well not entirely. My mind is a fucking swamp of emotions. My feelings for Richard aren’t helping—they're like quicksand. The more I try to get out, the deeper I'm falling in.

I reach for my phone, and see his name lighting up the screen, like a hundred missed calls and texts. I want to answer, to hear his voice, but my hands are shaking, and I can’t bring myself to press the damn button.

The truth is, being near Richard feels like stepping into an ocean of emotions. He’s more than just a good time in bed. Every touch, every kiss, it feels like fireworks. And damn, he knows how to make a woman feel weak in the knees.

On the flip side, I’m not ignorant. I know for Richard, it’s just sex. He thinks he can coax information out of me, but it’s not that simple.

I look at the screen again, contemplating whether to call him back. My mind is screaming, “Fuck it, answer the damn phone!” But my gut says otherwise.

I take a deep breath, shoving the phone back into my pocket. I need to gather my thoughts, figure out what the hell is going on, and stay one step ahead of Victor. The last thing I need is to be tangled up in Richard’s shit, no matter how good it feels.

The road to Virginia feels like Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis — the longest. My phone buzzes, it’s probably Richard again. But this time, I keep driving. Maybe it’s the right move, maybe it’s not.

I park the car and walk into my home, finally getting the fuck away from Victor’s circus. The FBI released my place a little over a week ago, and I was damn happy to have it back to myself. Only now, Cassie’s not around to share it with me. Her brother swooped in and grabbed her stuff the moment the door swung open.

I step inside and immediately notice how dark it is. Guess the FBI didn’t bother covering the electricity bill while they had the place. I stand still, letting my eyes adjust, but the darkness feels heavier here. In moments like these, when everything goes dark, I don’t usually reach for the candle. I know better now… it doesn’t chase the shadows, it only creates more.

But tonight, I want to see it. I want the light to pour over everything I’ve lost, to make the emptiness unbearable.

I make my way to the kitchen. The place feels different without Cassie’s stuff cluttering the counters. Her stupid little plants are gone, too. I half expect to see one of her ridiculous sticky notes with a smiley face on the fridge. But it's bare now, just like everything else.

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