Page 109 of Shattered Obsession

Every time she stopped breathing because something reminded her of him.

He didn’t just hurt her.

He lingered.

And I’d rather go to hell than let him have one more second in her head.

But then I see her. Thalia. Wrists torn raw from the cuffs, trembling, and holding a gun. Christ. My girl has a weapon pointed at the man who broke her, and all I can think is how goddamn proud and terrified I am in the same breath.

“Don’t you dare underestimate me,” she whispers, voice shaky but steel underneath. The words hit harder than any punch I’ve ever taken. That’s my Thalia. I don’t think she realizes what she looks like right now.

There’s blood dried down her arms, wrists raw and torn from the cuffs, eyes blown wide with terror, yet she’s the most terrifyingly powerful thing in this room.

Not because she has a gun.

Because she finally believes she deserves to fight.

Damian always thought power was in domination, choking the air out of someone else’s lungs.

But watching Thalia now, shaking, bruised, but refusing to crumble?

That’s power.

I’ve seen hardened men break under less.

I want to pull her into my arms, hide her face in my chest, take her away from all of this, but I also know this is her moment.

Her story.

Her reclaiming.

She’s going to walk out of here free.

And God help anyone who ever tries to cage her again.

Broken open, bleeding, but still standing in front of the storm. Damian laughs at her, even while I’ve got him pinned. That laugh makes me want to carve the sound right out of his throat. I slam his head into the concrete twice, enough to shut him up but not enough to finish it. Not yet. Because as much as I want to end him here, I see the way Thalia is staring. She needs this fight to end on her terms.

Tightening my grip, Damian struggles under me. He’s strong, heavier than he looks, but adrenaline makes me stronger. My whole body has one aim: protect her. He bucks hard, his elbow jamming into my ribs. Pain explodes white hot, but I use it. I drive my fist into his face, cartilage crunching under my knuckles. Blood sprays, his head snapping to the side.

“Still think she’s yours?” I growl, my voice unrecognizable even to me. “Not a fucking chance.”

I want to rip him apart. Bone by bone. Thought by thought.

But then Thalia exhales, one broken sound, and my entire world shifts.

She’s holding the gun—not like a weapon, but like a lifeline.

And suddenly killing Damian myself isn’t enough.

She needs the power back.

She needs the final choice.

I drag Damian by the collar, slamming him into the floor again, not because he’s fighting, but because I can. Because I need him broken.

When I stand, I keep myself between him and her. Instinct.

“Just say the word,” I tell her. “And I’ll tear him apart.”