Page 198 of Stormbreaker

The scream tears out of me on instinct—sharp, panicked, familiar.

This is how it always goes.

The shouting.

The blame.

The moment where I’m supposed to shrink and make it stop.

My father’s voice echoes in my head.

Knox’s layered right on top of it.

Look what you made me do.

The blade is coming for me.

I have time—just a heartbeat—to understand something.

I am so fucking tired.

Tired of swallowing the pain and calling it peace.

Tired of being the reasonable one.

Tired of bleeding quietly so other people don’t have to feel uncom­fortable.

I’m not about to die.

Not like this.

Not for him.

The fear burns out of me, replaced by something hot and steady and absolute. Every hand that ever grabbed me too hard. Every time I was told to smile. To endure. To be grateful.

I make a fist.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t pull the punch.

My knuckles connect with his already broken nose, and the impact reverberates up my arm like thunder.

Knox howls as he’s launched backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening crack.

I scurry to my feet and stand there shaking—not from fear.

From relief.

I look over to find Rook close by, wearing a proud smile on his face. “Good girl.”

I don’t say anything—I’m not sure I even can—but can’t help the matching smile curving one corner of my mouth.

Knox is groaning, crumpled in a heap, the bloody knife lying on the floor. Rook’s expression turns into a mask of rage. He grabs Knox by the collar, pulling him up.

“You would never have been good enough for her, dickhead.”

Then he strikes, his fist connecting with Knox’s other cheek.

Knox howls before he drops to the floor with a thud.