Page 142 of The Violet Raven

He follows my gaze to the duo, his expression shifting from sharpness to something more cautious, even concerned, as if he’s measuring my breaking point. “They’re just dancing, Finn.”

“Dancing,” I echo bitterly. “It’s more than that to him. I can see the way Mannie looks at her, like he’s claimin’ what isnae his to take.”

His eyebrows lift, expression turning pointed as he considers me with the patience of a man about to deliver a killing blow. “Whose is she to take?” he asks, the challenge clear in his tone.

I glare at him, but his narrowed eyes cut through me, tenacious as he studies my face. His words hang heavy in the air, unspoken but implied: She isn’t yours, either.

“I’d say you’re not mad at him,” he says, his voice deceptively light, “so much as you are at yourself. Because he’s doing what you won’t.”

The truth in those words stings sharper than I want to admit.

Bran shifts closer, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “If you can’t give her what she deserves, someone else will. That’s the choice you’re making—every time you swallow the truth.”

His words slice through the chaos in my mind, cutting straight to the marrow of the fear I’ve buried for far too long. “You’re just standing here, letting her slip away because you’re too afraid to take what you want. And for what? Fear? Rejection? Judgment? Losing her?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re already losing her, Finn. Right now. Toying with fate as you continue to push her into the arms of someone—anyone—who will tell her everything you’re too afraid to say.”

The weight of it lands like a punch to the ribs. My jaw tightens, frustration burning hot beneath my skin. “It’s not that simple,” I mutter, but even I hear the weakness in it—an excuse, flimsy and worn. A deflection to justify the weight of my hesitation.

Bran lets out a sharp laugh, not unkind, but scathing enough to snap me out of my haze. “Not that simple? Gods Finn, the woman you want is dancing with someone else right in front of you, and you’re standing like a spectre in your own life. She’s waiting for you… for you to show her she matters more to you than the fear in your head. You have the chance to love her openly. Not all of us can afford that risk.”

His last words stick, and in another time, I’d heed them—turn them over, dig for the meaning buried beneath.

But right now? He’s baiting me, dragging me out of the fog—and it’s working. I round on him.

“The last thing her mother said to me was to let no one impede her path.”

Bran steps into my space, eyes blazing. “And you already have. We both know you’ve already proven how wrong that was.”

I open my mouth, but he barrels on, not giving me the chance to deflect.

“In fact, we’re all so far off the so-called path that we’ll likely never find it again.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, something haunted behind it. “And you know what? That’s all right. Maybe the old path was never meant for us. Maybe what matters now is what we choose in the mess we’re in—who we choose.”

My pulse pounds in my ears. “You think I dinnae want to? You think it doesnae gut me to see her in his arms?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” Bran fires back, his voice rising enough to draw a few passing glances.

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t back down.

He places a hand on my shoulder, his tone razor-sharp. “Stop hiding behind excuses. Stop letting fear control you. Grow a damn spine and show her she matters before it’s too late.”

Then, softer, he adds, “And if you don’t, I swear on every cursed step we’ve walked together, I’ll remind you of your stupidity every day for the rest of your miserable life. With graphic detail.”

He flashes me a wicked grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t make me do that. Neither of us would enjoy it. Well, I might, but you’ll go mad before I let up.”

I snort, the sound low and bitter. “You’re a bastard.”

My eyes drift back to Triona just in time to see Mannie’s hand shift again, this time settling brazenly on her hip as the music slows. My heart stutters as I see the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her body stiffens at the move.

That’s all it takes for my resolve to shatter like glass underfoot.

“Mac, calm down—” Bran begins, but the words are distant, lost beneath the roaring in my ears. I shrug off his grip, the world narrowing to a single point.

The sight of Mannie as he leans in, murmuring in Triona’s ear.

Unrelenting frustration mounts with each passing second. Bran’s attempts to rein me in is laughable.

“Finn! I wasn’t suggesting you handle it so abruptly,” Bran whisper shouts, realising the fire he’s stoked has grown beyond his control.

I cross the floor in a few quick, deliberate strides as a lifetime of restraint unravels in an instant. The moment I reach them, Mannie’s smug expression only fuels the fury burning within me.