Page 138 of Cruel When He Smiles

He keeps speaking, his tone detached, and I realize it’s the only way he can say this without shattering. He tells me about the games she played, the lies she wrapped him in, how she could twist reality so tightly that even he would question his own mind. How she still calls, still pretends she’s innocent, still insists she’s his mother.

And I fucking hate her.

I hate that my chest feels tight under the weight of his voice. I hate the twisting in my stomach as I picture her holding a phone, smiling sweetly while she poisons every word. I hate that I can see it all now—every time his phone lights up and he freezes, every time he sidesteps any question about his family, every time his temper spikes in a way that feels learned or conditioned.

Nate shouldn’t have to flinch when his phone rings. He shouldn’t have to brace himself every time her voice filters through the speaker. He shouldn’t be owned by someone who has no right to fucking own him.

I want to take that part of him and rip it out with my fucking teeth.

I know my rage is obvious. Nate’s watching me, and I catch how his eyes flicker over my clenched jaw, the rigid set of my shoulders, the stillness in my breathing. But I don’t care. I’ve never cared about hiding this part of me from him.

This is what I do. I remove problems. I dismantle threats until they’re dust. And Nate’s mother is a problem I could take apart piece by piece without losing a wink of sleep. She’s a shadow that still hangs over him, and I can’t stand it. Iwon’tstand it.

His hand lands on my cheek again. “Liam.” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it—a warning he knows I won’t take.

“She doesn’t get to exist.”

The words leave me before I even consider softening them, before I think about tempering the truth. I don’t want to temper it.

Nate doesn’t flinch. His fingers are still against my cheek, centering me in that infuriating way he does, like he’s reminding me I’m here with him instead of already planning her end.

“Liam,” he says again, and I shake my head.

“No.” My voice is iron. “She doesn’t get to keep breathing after what she did to you.”

His jaw tightens. “She’s not worth it.”

I move, bracing one hand on the mattress beside his head, leaning in until there’s no space for him to pretend he can ignore me. My gaze locks on his, and I don’t blink. “She put her hands on you without ever touching you. She ruined you using the same methods my mother used to ruin me. She still owns pieces of you, and I won’t allow that, Nate.”

His throat moves in a slow swallow, but he doesn’t tell me to get off him. He doesn’t tell me I’m wrong. That’s all the permission I need.

“Tell me you don’t want her gone,” I murmur, lowering my tone, letting it slip into the coaxing cadence I know loosens him. “Tell me you don’t want me to fix this for you.”

His fingers twitch against my side, not quite grabbing me, not quite pushing me away. So, I press closer, letting my weight settle over him, caging him in, owning the space between us. Then I soften just enough to make him listen. I lower my voice, drop it into that quiet, dangerous tone that he melts for, the one that makes his body relax before he even realizes it’s happening.

“I’m going to rip her out of you, Pup.”

His breath hitches.

“Every piece of her. Every fucking hold she still has. Every thought, every scar, every shred of control she thinks she still owns.”

I brush my fingers down his throat, feeling the way his pulse pounds beneath my touch, the way his muscles twitch, how his body responds to mine without him even fucking thinking about it.

“And then I’m going to replace her with me,” I tell him, my voice dropping lower still, almost a whisper. “The same way you’ve taken parts of me I never meant to give.”

Nate’s eyes darken, his lips parting just slightly. Conflict, desire, the need for control are swirling in his gaze, warring with the craving to surrender.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I murmur, and his breathing stutters when I brush my lips over his ear. “You just want to give in.”

A soft, helpless noise slips out of him, and fuck, I love it.

“You don’t want to think about her anymore. You don’t want to feel her hands in your head. You don’t want her to exist in anypart of you; you want me to fill that space until she’s nothing but a ghost you can’t even remember.”

Nate’s control fractures. He surges up, his mouth crashing into mine with a force that’s all teeth and desperation. His fingers grip my hair, pulling me closer, and I let him. I let him take what he needs, because even when he’s the one moving, I know exactly who’s in control here.

And fuck, there’s nothing more beautiful than watching him break exactly the way I want him to.

Liam