Page 50 of Cold Carnage

“I left,” she said quietly. “I left.”

“That’s not good enough,” I said through gritted teeth. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, shaking with the effort to keep my emotions in check.

Paige took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. “You think holding onto this anger is going to help? It’s only tearing you apart.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” I retorted. “You don’t know what it’s been like.”

“Then tell me,” she urged, her eyes pleading with mine.

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “I’m done talking about this.”

Paige didn’t back down; she squared her shoulders and faced me head-on. “You’re pushing everyone away because you’re scared.”

“Scared?” I scoffed. “You think this is fear?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “You’re afraid of being vulnerable, of letting anyone in.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” I shot back.

Her expression eased just a fraction, enough to unsettle me. “We all have our demons, Ryker. But running from them isn’t the answer.”

I felt a mix of anger and confusion swirling inside me. Paige had no right to dig into my wounds like this, but damn if she wasn’t hitting close to home.

“We’re done here,” I said coldly, turning toward the door.

But as my hand reached for the handle, Paige’s voice stopped me once more.

“I knew you were a lot of things,” she said, her voice steady, “but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

The word ignited something deep inside me. I stalked back over to her, my steps quick and deliberate. Without thinking, I grabbed her by the arms, pulling her close enough to see the flecks of color in her eyes.

“You hurt Brendan,” I snarled, my grip tightening. “What’s to stop you from wrecking this family? The family I actually?—”

I stopped. What was I saying? How did she have the capacity to bring this out of me?

Her face twisted in pain, but she didn’t flinch. “Are you afraid I’ll do that?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words tangled in my throat. “I…” My voice trailed off, lost in the chasm between us.

“You left,” she said softly. “After that night?—”

“I don’t want to talk about that night,” I growled, my grip bruising against her skin.

“You left,” she repeated, her voice unwavering. “And I thought…” She sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken regret. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not angry. I didn’t know…”

“Stop.” The word came out harsher than I intended. My hand moved to her throat, fingers pressing against her skin as if I could choke out the memories. But those eyes—those damn eyes—seared into me, unwavering and fearless.

I wasn’t afraid of Paige. I wasn't. Iwasn't. But something else simmered beneath the surface—a mix of anger, confusion, and a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name.

“Ryker,” she whispered, her voice a soft plea.

Her breath brushed against my fingers, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of us—her heartbeat against my palm, the rise and fall of her chest beneath my hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Her question sliced through the tension.

Slowly, so slowly, I lowered my head. My breath mingled with hers, a shared moment of uncertainty hanging in the air between us. My eyes dropped to her lips, the curve of them almost too tempting to resist. I wanted to kiss her. God, I wanted to do so much more than that.

Her pulse thrummed beneath my fingers, a steady reminder of the life coursing through her veins. It would be so easy to close the gap, to give in to the pull that had been simmering between us for days. The need to taste her, to feel her warmth against me—it was almost overwhelming.

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