Page 48 of Sticks & Serpents

I didn’t even flinch; instead, I grinned, baring my teeth like a predator ready to pounce. The guy hesitated, caught off guard by my reaction. Mistake.

I lunged, body moving instinctively as my fist collided with his ribs. The satisfying thud echoed in my ears, the impact reverberating through me like a surge of adrenaline. He gasped for air, but I didn’t give him a moment to recover. An elbow slammed into his jaw next, the crunch resonating through the crowd surrounding us.

Blood smeared across my knuckles as I pulled back for another swing, feeling alive in this chaotic dance of violence. But it wasn’t enough—never enough. The rage that bubbled within me demanded more than just petty scuffles.

I fought harder, fists swinging with reckless abandon. My body moved like it was made for this—every muscle taut and ready to strike again and again. Each blow felt cathartic, a release from the pressure building inside me.

I couldn’t think about Holly coming to that fucking party.

And I sure as hell couldn’t think about my mother’s touch or how it had felt when her fingers curled around my wrist—like chains binding me to something dark and suffocating.

No, tonight was mine.

With every hit, every jab and uppercut thrown into the fray, I pushed those memories away. I focused on the feel of flesh meeting flesh, the thrill of asserting dominance in this primal arena where only strength counted.

The guy tried to regain his footing, but he underestimated me again. I was fueled by something raw and untamed—a hunger to prove myself beyond any name or expectation placed upon me.

As sweat dripped down my brow and blood painted my knuckles crimson, I embraced the chaos fully. Because buried beneath all of this madness was another truth: how badly I wanted to ruin every inch of Holly—the girl who’d once been mine—and pull her deeper into this chaos with me.

Chapter15

Holly

Istood in front of the mirror, the weight of my reflection pressing down on me. The dress hugged my curves just right, a deep emerald green that brought out the flecks in my hazel eyes. I had chosen it for its elegance, hoping it would help me blend into the sophistication of the Sinclaire estate. But now, as I adjusted the thin straps and smoothed out the fabric, I felt like an imposter dressed for a masquerade ball.

My fingers trembled slightly as I secured my hair into soft waves, a far cry from the messy bun I usually wore. Tonight was supposed to be a display of poise and charm, but inside, anxiety gnawed at my insides like a hungry beast.

As I slipped on a pair of strappy heels, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stepping into the lion's den. The Sinclaires were known for their perfection—everything polished to an immaculate shine—and here I was, walking into their world with all its glitz and power.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. My heart raced at the thought of Damien lurking somewhere within those grand walls. He would be there, with that maddening grin and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me. What would happen when our paths crossed? Would he pull me back into his chaotic orbit?

With one last glance at my reflection, I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last as I made my way to my car. The night air was cool against my skin, but it did little to quell the heat rising in my chest. This dinner could change everything—or plunge me deeper into Damien’s world from which I thought I had escaped.

As I pulled up to the Sinclaire estate, a wave of anxiety washed over me. The grand façade loomed like a fortress, its lights twinkling against the darkening sky. I parked and took a moment to steady my breath, my stomach in knots. The anticipation twisted inside me like a live wire, each pulse reminding me that tonight could be a reckoning.

I stepped out of the car, ignoring the shabbiness compared to the other pristine vehicles, and smoothed my dress again, wishing it would somehow shield me from what lay ahead. With every step toward the entrance, I braced myself for Damien to corner me, to pull me back into his chaotic world. But nothing could prepare me for what I actually saw when I entered the ballroom.

The soft glow of chandeliers illuminated the crowd, but my eyes zeroed in on him almost immediately. Damien stood across the room, an easy confidence radiating from his imposing figure. But he wasn’t alone.

My heart dropped as I took in the sight before me—a stunning girl with cascading brown hair and an infectious laugh leaned into him. His hand rested possessively on her hip, and he leaned down to whisper something into her ear that made her giggle like they shared an inside joke. His lips brushed against her neck in a way that made my chest tighten painfully. Hadn't his lips been on my neck a few days ago? Hadn't he left a mark that was faded now?

I felt frozen in place, the laughter and chatter around me fading into a dull roar. The world blurred as I focused solely on them—on him—with that girl whose bright smile seemed to light up even his darkest corners.

I didn’t exist anymore; only this hollow ache remained where hope had once thrived. As they continued their intimate display, a storm brewed inside me—a mixture of disbelief and jealousy crashing against one another.

The sight cut deeper than any blade ever could, severing any illusion I had that I could remain untouched by him or his world. My heart stopped as reality crashed over me: he had moved on while I was still caught in our tangled past.

I stood frozen, a spectator in my own life, as Damien leaned into that girl with the bright smile. The way he touched her was intimate, calculated—a performance that screamed manipulation. He knew I was here; I could feel it like a physical force pulling at the air between us. He was playing me, and I hated how much it affected me.

My gut twisted with jealousy, rage boiling beneath the surface. It shouldn’t hurt this much. This wasn’t supposed to matter anymore. Yet every laugh that erupted from her lips felt like a knife slicing through my defenses.

You keep saying it’s over;I reminded myself as the crowd swirled around me,so why does this feel like a knife to the throat?

I couldn’t stand there any longer, trapped in that moment where everything about him threatened to unravel me again. My heart raced as I turned away, shoving through the crowd toward the bar.

If Damien wanted to play games?

Fine.

---