Page 144 of The Ache That Stayed

“They always start that way,” he went on, like I hadn’t spoken. “Easy to shape. Easy to—”

The last restraint I’d been holding onto snapped. Everything I had buried—the rage, the helplessness, the twelve-year-old who had no voice, all the years of pretending it hadn’t happened—spilled into my bloodstream all at once.

And suddenly—I wasn’t twelve anymore. And he wasn’t untouchable. He was just a man. And men could bleed.

I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. Didn’t hesitate. The blade sat on the table. My hand closed around it—cold, solid, absolute. And then I drove it into his chest.

Surprise stripped the smugness from his face. He blinked. Confused. As though it had never crossed his mind that I might fight back.

My chest rose and fell too fast, my grip tightening around the handle as I stared at him.

“Don’t you ever say her name.”

I pushed the blade deeper.

“Not with that filthy mouth.”

For the first time in my life, I heard no fear in my own voice.

Behind me, I heard a dull thud. My body reacted before my mind did, turning sharply, breath catching—the burly man lay crumpled on the floor.

And beyond him—a figure stepped into the dim light. Familiar. Dangerous. My pulse stuttered. I knew that silhouette. Even before he stepped fully into the light.

CHAPTER 38

Santino

The words replayed in my head, slower this time.

“If you don’t leave… you’ll lose me. Forever.”

Not don’t come back. Not I don’t want you.

‘You’ll lose me.’

That wasn’t a threat. That sounded too much like fear.

Air struggled to fill my lungs as I stepped out of the cottage, a sharp pang lodging itself beneath my ribs. I dragged in a breath that didn’t go deep enough, didn’t fix anything, and before I could stop it, a tear slipped free. Then another. I wiped them away roughly, jaw locking like that would be enough to steady me.

It wasn’t.

I told myself I’d give her what she asked for—space, distance, whatever the hell she thought would fix this. But the moment I stepped out of the cottage, my pulse refused to settle.

I dragged a hand over my face, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with shaky fingers. The first inhale burned, smoke filling my lungs, but it didn’t touch the weight pressing into my chest. If anything, it made everything louder—the echo of her voice when she said please, the way her hands had trembled even as she pushed me away like she meant it.

She hadn’t meant it. I knew it in my bones.

I knew her. I knew the difference between rejection and fear, between distance and defence—and what I had seen in her eyes wasn’t indifference. It was panic.

I tilted my head back, staring into the night as everything in me snapped loose, raw and uncontained. A harsh sound tore out of me, somewhere between a shout and a growl, ripping through the quiet. It didn’t ease the pressure in my chest. It didn’t fix a damn thing.

I ran a hand through my hair and swung my leg over the bike, gripping the handles harder than necessary. For a second, I just sat there, staring ahead without seeing anything, until the engine roared to life beneath me. The vibration grounded me in a way nothing else did, a familiarity, something I could control.

So I took off. Fast enough that the world blurred. I ended up outside a bar without remembering the drive. Dim. Half-empty. Forgettable—the kind of place no one asked questions. I went in anyway, ordered a drink I had no intention of drinking, and sat there longer than I should have.

Her face kept coming back. Not the anger. Not the defiance.

The moment before it—when she’d looked like she was about to say something and chose not to. Like she was protecting me from it.