Page 27 of Sticks & Serpents

I was worse. More volatile and unpredictable than ever.

I watched as Holly turned down the hallway, shoulders squared and chin lifted defiantly, but even I could see how her steps quickened when she thought no one was looking. She didn’t realize yet that every confrontation would draw us closer to an inevitable clash. The game had changed; now it was about control.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I imagined what would happen when she fully grasped how much I’d evolved since those days when we were together. It wouldn’t be pretty for her—this relentless desire would turn into something darker.

I drummed my fingers against the table, savoring the anticipation that hummed through me like a live wire. Her fight only fueled my determination; every ounce of resistance pushed me further down this path of reclaiming what was mine.

She would find out soon enough just how deep my need for her ran—and how far I was willing to go to make sure she never forgot it again.

That night,I settled into my room; the shadows stretching across the walls like old memories refusing to fade. The adrenaline from the day still pulsed through me, mixing with the thrill of having Holly back in my orbit. I pulled out my phone and stared at her name in my contacts—just a few taps away from stirring chaos in her life.

I hesitated for a moment, considering the right words. No threats this time. No aggression. I wanted to keep her guessing, teetering on the edge of confusion.

You looked good today.

I hit send and leaned back against my pillows, a grin creeping across my face as I imagined her reaction. Would she read it with that same fire in her eyes? Would she feel that familiar jolt of electricity that coursed through us when things got too close? Or would she see it as just another game?

The truth was, it was both.

Part of me relished in the darkness that lingered within; that raw anger still simmered beneath the surface like an active volcano ready to erupt at any moment. But another part craved her—needed her back in my life like oxygen. This wasn’t just about revenge or reclaiming what was mine; this was about all those nights we spent tangled together, our laughter echoing off the walls.

It was about being with someone who made me feel…

I imagined her staring at the screen, reading my message over and over again, trying to decipher what lay beneath those simple words. Did I still want to hurt her? Would she dare let herself believe maybe I wanted her back instead?

That thought thrilled me. I wanted her off balance, caught between fear and desire. She had spent too long pretending to be free of me, and now? Now it was time for reality to settle in.

As minutes ticked by with no response, I felt a rush of satisfaction wash over me. She’d be thinking about me tonight—wondering where this would lead and if she could trust me again.

And somewhere deep inside, I knew this was only the beginning.

Chapter9

Holly

Iwoke up to the soft glow of my phone; the screen illuminating the dark room like a spotlight. My heart sank when I saw the unknown number.

You looked good today.

I stared at it longer than I should have; the words lingering like a ghost. My mind raced through every possible interpretation, but nothing felt right. It was casual. Normal. A comment that could come from someone who still held a piece of my heart.

But how could he act like everything was fine? Like he hadn’t just sent Logan to the ER? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will the memories away—the thud of bodies colliding on ice, Logan crumpling under Damien’s weight, and that smug look on Damien's face afterward.

And what he did after? That was so much worse.

I opened my eyes again and reread the message. The calmness in those words twisted something deep inside me. Hadn’t he always known how to manipulate me? He used to say things just like this when we were together, back when I believed in us—before everything had gone sideways.

My stomach churned at the thought of how easily I slipped into nostalgia, longing for something that no longer existed. A quick glance at the time told me it was still early; I could stay in bed and pretend none of this was happening, but that wouldn't last long.

With a heavy sigh, I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The hardwood floor felt cold against my skin as I sat there, battling with myself over whether to reply or just let it hang in limbo like so many other unresolved issues between us.

But as much as I wanted to dismiss him entirely, that message kept gnawing at me. Why did it feel so intimate? Why did it make me ache in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge?

I told myself to delete it.

Just swipe left, hit that little trash can icon, and let it go.

Block him.

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