Page 54 of Major Penalty

My fingers flex at my sides, rage still clawing at my throat. Then I turn my head. Irene is still watching me. And I can’t…I can’t fucking look at her right now, or I’ll go back down the stairs and do exactly what I said I would.

I need out. I grit my teeth and turn to Livia.

“Watch her for me.”

And then I leave for the bathroom.

The second the door slams behind me, I snap. I punch the door, needing an outlet, a way to get rid of this aggression. Pain splinters through my knuckles, and blood drips onto the tile, sliding down my fingers.

Fuck.

I brace my hands against the sink, dropping my head and breathing hard.

Cold water. I need cold fucking water. I turn the tap on and shove my hands under it, watching the blood mix with the water as it swirls down the drain.

I glance up, and my reflection stares back. My eyes dark as hell, rimmed with rage.

The door opens behind me, but I don’t turn. I already know who it is.

Rowan steps up next to me, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches me, waiting.

“Livia will handle the press.” His voice is even and calm.

I say nothing.

“And for the record,” he exhales, “I don’t blame you.”

I grip the sink harder as he meets my gaze in the mirror.

“I would’ve done the same.”

“You have done the same.” I let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Yeah. And I don’t regret it either.” Rowan smirks.

I drag a hand down my face. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving me feeling fucking wrecked. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with all of this.

But I do know this. No one else fucking touches her.

I’m standing on the balcony, cigarette between my fingers. My knuckles still sting, and my jaw is tight as I watch the city stretch out below me. I should be asleep. I should be cooling the fuck down, letting the rage burn itself out.

I should be done thinking about her.

But I’m not. She’s all I’ve been thinking about. The way she looked at me after I dropped that guy. She didn’t run. But she should have. She should have fucking bolted the second she saw me do that to him.

The tightness in my chest only grows, and it’s not from the fight. It’s the realization that I probably scared her away for good. Maybe that was my plan, deep down. Scare her off. Make her see that I’m too much. That I’ll always be too much. That I’m unworthy of someone like her. It’s what I do best.

But fuck, it hurts. The thought that I’ve made her see I’m too fucked up to be anything good for her, it stings. But I can’t say it surprises me. Everyone leaves. Everyone always leaves. I’m used to it by now. I can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t leave a mark.

The only reason I haven’t gone looking for her is that I know Livia is in her room next door. If she wasn’t? If Irene was alone? I don’t know if I’d be able to stay away.

I take another slow drag of my cigarette. The nicotine fills my lungs, but it doesn’t do shit to calm me down. I butt it out, pop a mint into my mouth, and step back inside just as someone knocks on my door. I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair, expecting Rowan and Damien.

But as soon as I pull the door open, I freeze.

Irene.

Still in that dress, still looking at me with those big brown eyes. The sight of her alone is enough for my heart to skip, yet I keep my face neutral. Is she here to tell me how I messed up? Yell at me? Tell me I’m a fuck-up?

---