Page 111 of Sticks & Serpents

“Don’t you dare put this on anyone else!” He slammed his palm down on the desk, making the papers jump. “This is your mess. You chose to throw yourself into that fight!”

“And what? You expect me to sit here and let them walk all over me?” I leaned in closer, matching his intensity. “I’m done playing by your rules and pretending everything is perfect when it isn’t.”

His face twisted in frustration as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in his anger. “What happens when they blacklist you from every team? When they refuse to even look at your talent because of how reckless you are?”

“Then maybe it’s time for a change,” I replied defiantly.

“You think it’s that easy?” he spat back, eyes narrowing into slits. “You don’t get to decide that for yourself anymore.”

“Oh please,” I sneered. “You’ve been making those decisions for me my whole life. I'm not afraid of you. Or her. Not anymore. What do you want? You know I'll tell everyone everything. And there's nothing that can make it go away."

His father narrowed his eyes, the kind of look that had made me shrink as a kid. “You expect me to believe you won’t come back and try to destroy me later?”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Believe whatever the fuck you want. But this is the only offer you’re getting.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I could almost feel the tension radiating off him, weighing down the air in the room. He was weighing his options, probably calculating every possible angle like he always did.

Then finally, he exhaled sharply. “Fine.”

I turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of triumph and relief coursing through me. But just as I reached for the door handle, his voice stopped me.

“You really think she’ll stay?”

I stiffened at his words but didn’t turn around. A part of me wanted to tell him to shut up—wanted to scream that Holly was different.

But my father chuckled darkly, breaking through my thoughts like a knife through flesh. “You’re your mother’s son, Damien. Sooner or later, you’ll push her too far.”

His words hit harder than I expected, sending a jolt of anger through me. I clenched my fists at my sides and swallowed hard, trying to shake off the sting of truth hidden in his taunt.

Something tightened in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. This was the last time my father got to fuck with me. I glanced over my shoulder, smirking as I felt a surge of defiance wash over me.

“You’re right. I am my mother’s son.” I held his gaze, letting the smirk deepen on my lips. “But I’ll never be yours.”

Then I walked out. And I didn’t look back.

The hallway felt endless as I made my way to my room, the adrenaline still thrumming through my veins. Each step echoed in my mind—a reminder that this was a turning point. A moment of clarity amidst all the chaos.

When I reached my room, I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it out of habit. The weight of everything settled in around me, heavy yet freeing at the same time. The walls seemed to close in, reminders of the past taunting me from every corner.

I moved quickly, packing a bag with only what I actually needed: a few clothes, my phone charger, and the small stash of cash hidden in my desk drawer. Each item represented a break from the past—a tangible sign I was done playing their game.

I left everything else behind—the trophies that represented expectations, the photos that felt like chains wrapped around my throat. They were just remnants of a life crafted by someone else’s vision—someone who thought they could mold me into a version of perfection that would never be mine.

For the first time in years, as I zipped up the bag and threw it over my shoulder, I felt free. The sensation washed over me like a wave crashing against jagged rocks—painful yet exhilarating.

I stepped outside into the crisp air, breathing deeply as if tasting freedom for the first time. No more hiding behind their expectations or their twisted ideals. No more letting them define who I was supposed to be.

I had made my choice; now it was time to own it.

Chapter33

Holly

Iwoke up alone; the sheets tangled around me, a delicious ache coursing through my body. I stretched, relishing the warmth and softness of the bed, feeling content for the first time in ages. The memories of last night flickered through my mind—Damien’s kiss, the way he held me like I was the only thing keeping him anchored. But then a shadow crossed over that happiness.

Damien's outburst on the ice replayed in my head like a broken record. I worried about his future—the risk he’d taken by letting rage consume him. But running away? That wasn’t an option for me anymore.

With a sigh, I pushed off the covers and padded down to the kitchen. The smell of eggs wafted through the air, and I found Everly standing at the stove, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

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