Page 68 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
His grip tightens painfully.
“How dare you,” he says, his voice rising, cracking into something unstable. “How dare you let him put that on you.”
“I didn’t—”
The words don’t come out properly.
He drags his fingers over it, not gentle, not careful, pressing hard enough that it hurts.
“You let him mark you like that,” he says, his voice shaking. “Like you belong to him.”
“I do—”
I don’t mean to say it. It just comes out. That’s what breaks him.
His expression snaps completely, whatever control he had disappearing all at once.
“You don’t,” he says sharply. “You belong to me.”
His hand leaves me just long enough for him to turn, to grab something from the table behind him.
When I see the knife, something in me kicks hard against the haze.
“No!”
This time I move before he reaches me.
I stumble back, the chain yanking tight at my ankle as I try to put distance between us, my balance slipping as I hit the edge of it too fast.
“Don’t touch me!”
My voice is louder now, sharper, panic breaking through the fog as I try to steady myself, my hands coming up instinctively, ready to push him away.
He’s on me in seconds.
His hand slams into my shoulder, forcing me back, the impact knocking me off balance completely as I fall sideways onto the bed, the mattress catching me but not stopping the shock of it.
“No—stop...”
I scramble, trying to get away, trying to twist out from under him as he follows, his weight pinning me down before I can move properly.
My hands push against him, nails digging into his arm, trying to shove him back, but it barely slows him down.
“Get off me!”
My voice breaks as I try to twist again, my body not responding fast enough, my strength not landing where it should.
“You don’t get to keep this,” he says, his voice low now, almost calm again in a way that makes it worse. “I’ll remove it.”
I grab his wrist as he brings the knife down, both hands locking around it, trying to hold it away from me.
“Stop! Please fucking stop!”
My grip slips.
My arms shake. I can’t hold him.
The blade presses down anyway. The first cut is across my collarbone.
