“You might have medals,” he went on. “Might have stories they pin to your chest. But you’re still a coward.”
That word hit harder than it should have. Because part of me believed it.
“Living in some quiet, American town, acting like distance rewrites the past. Like not going home erases what happened.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said finally. It wasn’t a defense. Just a fact. One he’d never accept.
He didn’t respond, but the weight between us lingered—old wounds and words we never learned to say right. We were two sides of the same broken mirror, each reflecting the part the other couldn’t face.
I turned. Not to run. But because I refused to fight the same war twice.
Let him stand there with his accusations. I had my own ghosts to carry—and they didn’t scream quite so loud anymore.
I could feel Leo behind me—watching, waiting, circling like a dog that mistook silence for weakness.
Then came the laugh. Cold. Bitter. Familiar.
“The thing about Callie is,” he said, voice dipped in poison, “she always had a thing for strays. Loved a good pity project. Must be nice, being her newest broken toy. Just don’t get confused when she screams my name while you’re fu?—”
I didn’t hear the rest.
Didn’t need to.
The words blurred. The world narrowed. A familiar heat rose—slow at first, then blinding. Years of silence, restraint, control—burned up in a breath.
I turned.
My fist moved faster than thought. Bone met bone, clean and sharp. Leo stumbled, eyes wide for half a second before the blood came.
And still—he smiled. Of course he did.
“Nice shot,” he muttered, dragging a thumb across his split lip. “Knew you had it in you.”
I didn’t answer. The ache in my knuckles was nothing compared to the deeper pull in my chest. The part of me that still wanted to hurt him. Not because of what he said—but because hemeantit. Every venom-laced word.
“This isn’t a game,” I said, voice low.
Leo stepped forward, fists loose but raised. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been waiting for this longer than you’ll admit.”
He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make him right.
Leo circled closer, a grin pulling at his mouth like a loaded weapon. “It’s almost sweet, you know,” he sneered. “You—quiet, cold Cavil—playing house with her. Like you think she’s gonna save you from yourself. But you’re not a man she can fix. You’re just another broken thing she’ll bury next to Dad when she’s done pretending.” His words sliced deeper than fists ever could, but Leo didn’t stop. “You think she loves you? She pities you. She always has. That’s the only reason she looks at you the way she used to look at me.”
I moved before I even registered the decision. The first punch cracked across Leo’s jaw, sending him reeling a step.
But Leo came back fast, laughing through the blood on his teeth as he swung low, catching me in the ribs.
We slammed into the side of the truck, metal groaning under our weight. Fists collided with bone, boots scraped gravel, breath came ragged and hot. It wasn’t clean or choreographed—just years of resentment let loose, raw and ugly. I didn’t speak, didn’t taunt. I let the silence hit harder than my fists, each blow landing with the weight of all the things I’d never said.
Leo caught me across the cheek, knuckles tearing skin, but I didn’t back down. I drove Leo into the snow, knee to his chest, fists hammering down until Leo spat curses and blood in the same breath.
“You care about her?” Leo choked out, gasping. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. She’s going to leave you, Cav. Just like everyone else.”
The punch landed hard—bone on bone, clean and deserved. A flash of pain lanced through my knuckles, but it barely registered. I was already pulling back for another strike when Christian stepped in, arm outstretched like a damn shield.
“Cavil!” he barked. No hesitation. Just the voice of a man who wasn’t asking.
I froze—barely. My breath dragged heavy through my nose, every muscle taut and ready to finish what Leo started. My vision tunneled, narrowed to rage and blood and the grin still smeared across Leo’s mouth like a scar. Christian stood his ground, firm and calm, as if that alone could hold me together.
