Page 98 of Brutal
He shakes his head. “I wish I could believe you, Sam.”
I step toward him once. “Careful.”
Nate doesn’t flinch. He knows I could knock him into next week. He also knows I won’t. He thinks I have no restraint? He has no idea how much I’m using my restraint with him right now.
“She’s not supposed to matter,” he says.
“She doesn’t.”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “You’re lying.”
I flex my hand at my side.
He notices.
Nate always was better at stillness than I am. Better at standing there with his hands clean while someone else bleeds for the family.
He takes one step closer. “I told you she’s a weakness.”
I clench my teeth.
To hell with restraint.
I bring my fist up and hit his left jaw.
The sound cracks through the office like the glass in my mother’s kitchen.
And fuck, it feels good.
He snaps sideways. He stumbles once into the edge of the desk, flattening his palm on the polished wood to catch himself. A bright line of blood appears at the corner of his mouth.
For one second, neither of us moves.
The beast in me goes very still.
Nate straightens slowly. Touches his lip with the pad of his thumb. Looks at the blood there. Then at me.
I don’t see outrage. I don’t see shock. Just cold comprehension. “That,” he says, “would seem to prove my point.”
I grab the front of his jacket and shove him back against the bookshelves. Hard enough to rattle the glass-front cabinet beside them.
“No,” I say, face close to his. “It proves you should know better.”
Nate’s breathing stays even, but his eyes sharpen. “Then say it.”
“Say what.”
“That I’m wrong.”
“I don’t answer to you.”
“No,” he says. “But you answer to what she does to you.”
I tighten my grip.
“Funny,” he says, “how quickly you become exactly what you were trained to be.”
I release my hold on him. He uses all his strength to stay standing. He smooths his lapel once, like this is a boardroom conversation instead of a fucking brawl.
