Page 77 of Unruly

“You think you can do better than me?” he presses, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You don’t get to leave me. There is no you without me. I’d rather see you dead than out here whoring around like you’re free.”

“Zach, do you hear yourself? You sound insane,” I say, forcing my voice to stay low and even as my pulse races. “This is my life now—The Bar, my choices, my future. You need to accept that so we can both move on. You don’t need me.”

He lunges then, grabbing for my arm with surprising speed. “Who the fuck is Cash, huh? Some loser you’re fucking to get back at me? You don’t have a choice. Pack your shit. We’re leaving. Now.”

The sound of an engine roars outside—probably some kids doing some dumb shit in the middle of the night—and I use the moment he looks away to reach under the bar, grabbing the shotgun.

I pull it out in one smooth motion, racking the slide with a sound that cuts through the chaos like the crack of thunder. The barrel comes up level with Zach’s chest. “Back. Off. Now.”

He stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening in genuine surprise. For the first time tonight, the fury on his face falters.

“I said get the fuck out, Zach. This ends tonight. The only time I want to see you is in that goddamn courtroom. You don’t get to decide my life for me anymore.”

He stares at me, chest heaving. He knows that the argument has shifted, and he’s losing. I hold the shotgun steady, pushing him back with it so I’m no longer being crowded. My mind races through how to end this without one of us getting hurt. For a second, something calculating flickers behind his eyes. Then he lets out a short, ugly laugh.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” he says. “Pointing a gun at me? Jesus, Halle. Think about what you’re doing. Put it down before you do something you can’t take back.”

“I am thinking,” I whisper back, my finger resting near the trigger guard. “I’m thinking about protecting what’s mine now—what I’ve built. If I pull this trigger, I promise you, nobody will ever find you. So get the fuck out of my bar, Zach.”

He circles slowly to my left, trying to find an angle. I pivot with him, keeping the barrel to his chest.

“I didn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed. You’re my wife, and if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming, I will.”

My finger tightens near the trigger, and I let out a short, bitter laugh, even though my heart is slamming against my ribs. “Yours?” I spit. “You really believe that shit? You had me, Zach, and you threw me away the second things got hard. You fucked someone else while I was bleeding out in a hospital bed. So don’t stand there and act like I still belong to you. I don’t. I never fucking will again.”

His jaw tightens, but I don’t stop.

“You want to talk about what’s mine?” I continue, voice rising. “This bar is mine. This life is mine. And you don’t get to come in here and threaten to take it from me just because your ego can’t handle the fact that I left.”

Zach takes a step forward. I don’t back up.

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” I tell him, voice hard. “And if you try, I will blow a hole through your fucking chest. I’m not the same girl you used to push around. Try me and see what happens.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You really think that redheaded kid is gonna protect you?” he asks, voice dripping with disdain. “That’s Cash, right?”

My stomach drops. I don’t move, but my mind races. How the fuck does he know what Cash looks like? “How the fuck do you know him?”

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out that you’re fucking someone barely out of high school?”

He’s been watching me. Or someone has been telling him about me.

Before I can say anything else, with the shotgun still pointed at his chest, the back door opens and shuts.

“Halle?”

Cash’s voice cuts through the bar, and my heart races with a mix of relief and panic. Zach’s head snaps toward the sound, but he doesn’t look away for long, before returning his gaze to me, his eyes now wild. “Speak of the devil. Looks like your little boyfriend showed up right on time.”

CASH

I’m still driving when the background check finally comes through from Miranda. The phone is in my hand, screen glowing against the dark interior of the truck as I try to read and keep between the lines at the same time. My foot is heavy on the gas. I know I’m speeding but I don’t give a fuck.

Zachariah Mercer. Three prior arrests for domestic violence. Two different women. Both before he ever married Halle. The cases were dropped by the women so there aren’t any convictions.

Which means no fucking consequences for being a coward of a man.

My jaw locks.

I continue to scroll with one hand, eyes flicking between the road and the screen. One woman had a broken wrist, the other had bruises around her throat and a busted lip. He walked away both times because they were too scared to see it through.