Page 104 of Left-Hand Larceny
For a second, I do what I always do. Nod. Placate. Say whatever I need to just to get out of this hallway and away from him.
But then I remember Ragnar. How he stood behind me, silent and solid. How he slid his hand around my waist and told Christian to leave. How he never once made me feel small.
I think of the girls at the table. Of Quinn saying Ragnar wont let anything happen. I think of the way he looks at me like I’m whole. Like I matter. And I snap.
“No.”
Christian’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“No,” I say louder. “I’m done with you.”
His jaw tightens. “Sadie—”
“You were abusive,” I say clearly. “Manipulative. Controlling. You tore me down every chance you got and made me believe I deserved it. But I don’t. I never did.”
He takes a step forward, but I hold my ground.
“I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. In fact, I don’t hate you either. You’re nothing to me now. Less than nothing.”
He scoffs. “You think your parents will stand by you if you keep making these kinds of decisions?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”
“You think someone like him actually gives a shit? You think you matter to people like that? He’ll screw you and toss you away just like everyone else. At least I knew who you really were. Poor little Sadie, only good to fuck and barely that.”
I see red.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
I punch him.
My fist slams into the bridge of his nose with a crack that’s more satisfying than anything I’ve felt in months. Possibly even orgasms with Ragnar, and that’s saying something. He stumbles back, clutching his face, eyes wide in shock as blood seeps between his fingers.
“You absolute dick,” I hiss, my heart racing like a drum line. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not anymore. Not ever again. I am too goddamn good for you, Christian, and I’m done letting you treat me like I’m worthless.”
He blinks at me, stunned and furious, but I’m already walking away. My hand throbs and my knuckles sting, but I don’t care. I don’t feel ashamed. I feel free.
The bathroom door swings shut behind me with a satisfying bang.
I lean against the sink, breathing hard, and when I look in the mirror, my reflection is flushed and messy and a little wild. But strong.
Not someone’s mistake. Someone’s choice.
They know something’s wrong the second I slide back into the booth.
Tristan’s eyes snap to my face. “What happened?”
I grab my drink and take a long, steadying sip. “Christian was here. He cornered me outside the bathroom.”
Quinn’s already halfway to standing. “What the hell?”
“I’m okay,” I say quickly. “He’s mad. Said I embarrassed him. Said I should apologize. But I didn’t.”
“What did you say?” Jen asks.
“I told him I’m done. For good. That he’s nothing to me.”
Tristan nods like a general receiving intel. “I’m going to let the bartender know. He doesn’t get to lurk around and intimidate people.”
