Page 82 of Safe Place

The door opens slowly after I bang the door for what feels like an entire minute.

Carter stands there shirtless, his hair a mess, like he just woke up, blinking blearily. “It’s seven in the morning⁠⁠—”

Recognition hits his face like a slap.

“Shit,” he mutters. “You’re that guy from the cafe. The one with Soph⁠⁠—”

I don’t answer.

My fist does.

It slams into his jaw, knocking him straight back into the wall. He groans, stumbling, one hand over his mouth.

“What the fuck?!” He roars.

I step in and slam the door shut behind me.

“That,” I say, “was for the day in the cafe.”

I punch again, hard and fast into his gut. He folds, choking.

“That’s for the disgusting little gift you left for her.”

Another hit—his face snaps sideways. He drops to the floor, trying to scramble back, panic all over his face.

I grab him by the collar and drag him up.

“And this? This is for that night you ripped her shirt.”

One punch.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Each one a punishment. Each one not enough.

“Stop! Fuck, stop!” he gasps, spitting blood.

“You didn’t stop,” I growl.

He’s limp against the wall, wheezing, barely able to keep himself upright.

“You act like this is new to you.” I snap. “Five names, Carter.”

I spit them out like a list of charges.

“Rachel Jameson. Liv Kaplan. Maddie Chen. Elise Warner.”

I pause. It kills me that she’s one of his victims.

“Sophie Lennox.”

He freezes.

“I know who you are,” I continue, my voice sharp, steady. “Carter Delaney. Your family has the interior and architectural design firm. Funny thing—it’s revenue barely broke even until they landed their contract with The Vale Group. That name ring a bell?”