Page 91 of Cold Carnage

"You shouldn't have fought him," she said, her eyes searching mine for something I wasn't ready to give.

I could see the gears turning in her head, calculating the fallout, planning damage control. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Part of me wanted her to just be Paige, not the PR guru trying to fix another mess I'd made.

"I don't regret one second of it," I replied roughly, my voice edged with anger. "The asshole deserves it. You're mine, Paige. He needs to know that."

Her expression hardened. "And what about the team, Ryker? I thought you cared about them more than anything."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. She was right, and it stung more than any blow Brendan had landed. "I—" I faltered, unable to find the right words. Instead, I stayed silent, my jaw clenched tight.

She sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I need to handle this," she muttered, more to herself than to me.

The air between us felt charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The weight of everything hung heavy on my shoulders—Brendan's accusations, Paige's disappointment, and the undeniable truth of my own feelings.

As she turned away to grab her phone and start making calls, I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. She was right—we needed damage control—but every part of me rebelled against letting go of this moment.

I watched her pace back and forth, already diving into crisis management mode. It was both maddening and admirable how quickly she shifted into problem-solving mode.

I sank deeper into the chair, feeling every bruise and cut on my body throb in rhythm with my racing heart. The battle wasn't over—not by a long shot—but for now, all we could do was pick up the pieces and figure out how to move forward from here.

My phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the tense silence. I glanced at the caller ID and saw my father's name flashing on the screen. The last person I wanted to deal with right now. Ignoring it, I let it go to voicemail.

The texts started pouring in almost immediately.

What the hell are you thinking?

You and Paige Adams? Really?

You just threw away everything to fuck some slut? Is this a way to get back at Brendan?

Each message was like a punch to the gut, each word stoking the fire of my fury. My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. Finally, unable to contain it any longer, I hurled the device across the room. It smashed against the wall with a satisfying crack.

Paige jumped at the sudden violence, her eyes wide with shock. She looked at me; her face pale. But concern flickered in her eyes.

I met her gaze but said nothing. Words seemed useless, empty. The rage and frustration churned inside me, threatening to spill over.

For once, I wasn't worried about being perfect or holding everything together. I didn't care about appearances or consequences. I wanted Paige in whatever way I could have her—raw, real, and unfiltered.

She took a tentative step towards me, her expression softening as she reached out a hand. "Ryker," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

I closed the distance between us in two strides, capturing her hand in mine. The contact sent a jolt through me, grounding me.

"Don't," I said hoarsely, my voice raw with emotion. "Don't say anything."

She nodded silently, her eyes never leaving mine as she laced her fingers through mine.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—not Brendan, not my father, not even the mess we'd have to clean up later. It was just us—two broken souls finding solace in each other's presence.

Her phone rang, cutting through the tension like a knife. Paige glanced at the screen, her eyes widening slightly.

"I have to take this," she whispered, her voice tight with urgency.

She pulled away from me and walked over to the kitchen; her back straightening as she answered the call. I watched her, wishing I could pull her back. Even now, during this shitstorm, she was composed and focused.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to shake off the lingering anger and confusion. Usually, I knew exactly what I intended to do. Every move was calculated, every step planned. But now? Now I felt like I was free-falling without a safety net.

But despite the uncertainty gnawing at me, I didn't regret any of it. Not the fight with Brendan, not standing my ground for Paige. Even if this blew up in my face later, it felt right in the moment.

Paige's voice carried softly from the kitchen as she spoke into her phone. I couldn't make out the words, but her tone was serious, professional. She ended the call and turned back to me. She chewed her bottom lip.

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