Page 244 of Love Me Stalk Me

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Evan's entire body locks up. His eyes dart to the phone, then to me, then back to the phone. The color drains from his already pale face.

"No." He shakes his head. "No, you?—"

"Oh, I did." I slip my phone back into my pocket, cracking my knuckles as I step forward, the sound echoing in the confined space.

And now?

Now, I get to hurt him.

Every insult. Every moment of emotional torture he inflicted on Izzy?—

I'm about to give it back to him tenfold.

Evan spits on the floor, straightening up despite the obvious pain in his ribs. "Aren't you gonna tie me back up or restrain me?"

"Oh no," I murmur. "I want this to be a fair fight."

He stiffens.

"I want to feel you struggle against me. I want you to know that you lost. That you can't beat me."

The second the words leave my mouth, he lunges.

I let him.

Because I want this.

I want him to throw that first punch.

I want him to think, for one stupid fucking second, that he has a chance.

And then?

Then, I will end him.

I don't hold back.

The first punch snaps his head to the side, a brutal crack of knuckles against bone, sending spit and blood flying across the concrete floor. The impact reverberates up my arm, a satisfying ache in my knuckles.

"That's for when you told her she wasn't good enough."

He grunts, stumbling, but I don't let him fall. I grab the front of his shirt, the material bunching in my fist, yanking him forward, just so I can slam my knee into his ribs.

Once.

Twice.

There’s a crack—sharp, final—and he coughs, folding in on himself. The noise rebounds off the metal shelves, cold and relentless, refusing to let me forget it.

"That's for every time you made her doubt herself."

He tries to swing. A desperate, wild punch that barely clips my jaw.

Pathetic.

I let him get that onehit. Let him think he has a chance.

And then I take it away.

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