“Kerry, are you in there? Don’t tell me that food’s gotten to your stomach already.” Vic jokes from the other side of the door.

Cory freezes instantly, but I don’t. I knee him, hard, between the legs. He doubles over with a strangled gasp, his hands flying to his groin.

Then, I shove him back with everything I have, my voice cracking through the fear. “You don’t scare me anymore.”

I barely get a breath in before I scream. “Vic! Help! It’s Cory!”

The door rattles violently. Vic’s body slams into it, over and over, shaking the walls.

Cory panics. His eyes flick to the door, and then, like a cornered animal, he lashes out. He shoves me hard until I stumble back and hit the wall with a sickening crack. Pain bursts through my skull as I crumple to the floor, dazed and my vision spinning. Blood trickles down my temple.

Then the door flies open.

Vic charges in, and when he sees me slumped and bleeding on the tile, something in him snaps. The fury on his face is instant, unfiltered, and blinding.

Cory tries to put on a show while still limping in pain from the damage I’m proud to have caused. “Hey, man. I’m sorry you had to see this. She invited me in here and wanted to —”

Before he can finish, Vic grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall so hard the mirror cracks.

What happens next isn’t a fight. It’s an execution. Vic’s fists fly. Cory’s blood spills. He lands punch after punch with force. A waiter rushes in and sees everything—sees me, sees Vic, and Cory’s pathetic, bloody mess of a body, but he doesn’t stop it. No one does.

And when Vic finally stops, he crouches, forcing a beaten, delirious Cory to look him in the eyes.

“I dare you to call your dad. Call your uncle. Call your cousin. Hell, call your whole goddamn family. I’ll take you all down to the darkest pits of hell. I promise you, if you ever go near Kerry again, if you so much as breathe in her direction, you’ll never be able to do anything ever again.”

When Vic turns to me, his fury melts, into something softer, gentler. A tenderness that shatters me into pieces. He rushes to my side and hovers his hands over me as if he’s afraid to touch me, afraid that I’ll break the moment he does.

Then, he cups my face, and I flinch. It’s just my instinct, a defensive reaction so ingrained into my body that it happens before I can stop it.

“Kerry—” My name is barely a whisper, thick with pain, as if my flinch hurt him just as much.

And then I do break. Tears spill over, and I don’t even have the strength to stop them.