Page 184 of Wicked Brutal

“Apparently I fucking do now!” He points toward the main house. “There’s a picture in my pocket of a baby I can’t tell anyone is mine. Your father has a date on a fucking calendar to take you away from me. Tremblay keeps putting his hands on you. Roman already hit you. We don’t have enough evidence. We don’t have Tobias. We don’t have enough fucking time.” His voice cracks. “And every morning I wake up wondering which thing I missed is going to be the one that costs me you.”

My anger doesn’t disappear.

Ryan steps closer. “I am trying to control too many variables because I can’t control the one thing I actually give a shit about.”

“What?”

“You.” My throat closes. He shakes his head immediately. “No. Fuck. That’s wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t mean control you. I can’t control what happens to you.” There. His voice drops. “And it is making me fucking insane.”

“You don’t get to love me so hard that you turn into another person making decisions for me. You don’t get to decide I’m too fragile to know the plan. Or what risks I’m allowed to take.”

His jaw tightens. “That one we’re going to fight about.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“If your brilliant fucking plan is to throw yourself under the bus so Tobias gets out, we’re fighting.”

“You don’t get a vote.”

“The fuck I don’t.”

“He is my brother.”

“And you are my—“ He stops.

“My what?”

His eyes burn into mine. “The person I fucking love.”

My heart pounds. “Not your property.”

“Never said you were.”

“Then stop acting like losing me is somehow worse than losing Tobias.”

“I’m not choosing between you!”

“You might have to!”

“NO.” His voice shakes the room. “No. Fuck that. I am not accepting that as an option.”

“You can’t plan your way out of everything!”

“WATCH ME.”

I stare at him. He stares back. Both of us breathing hard. Both furious. Both scared. And, because my body is apparently a traitorous fucking bitch, I’m suddenly painfully aware of how close he is. Ryan sees it. Of course he does. His eyes drop to my mouth. Mine drop to his.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.”

“I fucking hope not.”