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“Because I’m being kept as a prisoner.” I swipe the first tear that falls, determined to not let another follow it.

He grinds his teeth together, fingers pressing a little harder. “Yes, that is exactly what you are, but at least I’m not leaving you for dead like your brother is right now.”

When his hand moves away, I focus on the food, trying to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I don’t need to deal with this.

Being back with Noah might be better than this.

“Are you kidding me?” I turn down the pan so the food doesn’t burn. “You think that Noah is leaving me for dead based on the fact that he doesn’t make rash decisions?”

Royce scoffs and swipes his keys from the counter, heading for the front door. “I’m done arguing about this, Gia. I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m not going to stand here and go in circles with you. When you want to actually talk things out, let me know.”

He rips open the door as I follow him into the front hall.

An apology is on the tip of my tongue as he stops on the front porch and turns around. His mouth opens and closes a couple times before he points at me, keys jingling from his finger.

“Matt is going to stay here and watch over you and Bianca. I need some space.”

“Of course you do.” The apology dies as I’m taken back to two and a half years ago, when he left me standing in the doorway after the worst fight we’ve ever had.

This is what I was scared of, and this is what I’ve pushed him into.

“Go ahead and leave, Royce; it’s what you’re good at. I should’ve known that you were never going to change.”

He looks like he’s seconds away from his head blowing up. “Sure, Gia. Whatever you want to tell yourself. Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what ruined us in the first place.”

Royce storms back over to me, his hand wrapping around my throat. He slams me back into the wall. The rough siding bites into my back, the air cold, though it might not be the air making my nipples stiff.

Now isn’t the time.

Royce’s fingers tighten around my neck, pressing against my pulse, making my head lighter. My heart pounds as I reach up, fingernails sinking into his skin as I try to pull his hand away from me.

“I could kill you right now. I told you to fucking drop it and you didn’t. You keep pushing. You think you’re entitled to anything more than ending up in a fucking grave?” he says, his voice gravelly, his face close to mine.

Tearing at his hand is all I can do, but he doesn’t let go. No, the sick bastard enjoys this. Arguing was always what we were best at.

His fingers flex. “You are a prisoner here. It’s the best you’re going to get. Until you learn to fucking control yourself, that’s all you’re ever going to be.”

I drive my knee upward, hitting his thigh instead of his balls. He leans to the side, his grip loosening enough for me to shove him away. I should have brought a knife with me. Something that I could use to stab the bastard for all that he’s done and all that he’s ruined. For the way he took me and my daughter from our home.

When he drops his hand from my throat and takes a step back, it somehow feels worse than when it was there.

His tongue slides over the top row of his teeth. “When you’re ready to grow the fuck up, maybe I’ll be back.”

Royce gets in the car, gunning it to life as Matt appears on the porch with a rifle slung over his back.

He looks between me and the car as it reverses down the driveway. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re both too fucked to function most of the time, but there has to be a reason you were brought back together.”

“To run me into an early grave.” I give him a smile, reaching up to wipe away another tear.

I’ve spent too much of my time crying over Royce Lynde.

Never again.

The bitter wind makes the tears on my cheeks sting. My head aches and whether it’s from Royce trying to cut off my oxygen or the part of me that feels like it’s been torn away, I don’t know.

It doesn’t matter.

This time, if I fall apart, it won’t be over him—even if that means facing Noah or carving out a new life for myself on my own.