“I had every right!”

Guilt pours from him. I can feel it. He thinks he stole his brother’s life, and now he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

I nod my head toward the bag. “Why didn’t you tell me you practiced MMA?”

“You never asked.”

“You made me spar with Dec when I could have sparred with you,” I hiss, feeling betrayed.

“I will never spar with you.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt me? Is that it?” I raise an eyebrow.

Silence.

“You’re such a misogynistic asshole, do you know that?”

He clenches his jaw.

“Hit a nerve, have I?”

“Why did you do what you did?”

“Don’t change the subject,” I mutter.

“Why did you do what you did?”

“Stop repeating the question until you get a goddamn answer.” I bite back.

“If you answered it the first time, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

“Fuck you!”

“Why. Did. You. Do. What. You. Did!”

I stare at him. “I thought you were dead. I thought Irish was dead. I thought it would be better for everyone left if I were dead too.” My voice breaks.

“Jaine…”

I shake my head. “Don’t you dare show me any fucking sympathy! You don’t get to make my choices for me. It’s my life. Mine. It’s not fucking yours to play God with. Fuck you, Eoin O’Connell, for trying to do just that!”

“You and Paddy are meant.”

“I decide who’s meant for me! Not you! You don’t get to make decisions on my behalf all so you can ease your own goddamn guilty conscience!”

“That’s not what I was...”

“I call bullshit! That’s exactly what you were doing, asshole.”

I turn to leave.

“I’m not done with you, Jaine. Don’t you dare turn your back on me!”

I can hear the switch as Mr. Dominating. Dangerous. Deadly decides he wants to join the party. I glance at him over my shoulder and smirk. “Fuck. You.”

I open the door of the container. It’s raining. I lift my face to the sky as the thick droplets land on my skin, and then I run. If the fucker’s not done with me, he’s going to have to catch me before I reach the hog.

Anticipation surges through me. Will he chase me?