Page 57 of Cruel When He Smiles (Sinners of Blackthorne U #3)

Nate

I’ve seen Liam irritated. I’ve seen him calculated and cold.

I’ve seen him take someone apart without ever raising his voice.

He doesn’t just walk into a room—he occupies it.

He wears control like it’s armor, keeps people exactly where he wants them, twists situations into the shape of his will without anyone even realizing he’s doing it. That’s the Liam I know.

Today, that Liam is gone.

I don’t know how to approach him when he’s like this. The wrong word might set him off. The wrong touch could make him burn hotter. But doing nothing feels worse. So, I say the one thing I know can cut through.

“Do you want to take it out on me?”

His head jerks slightly, eyes narrowing at me like I’ve spoken in another language. “What?”

“Your anger,” I clarify, my voice steady even though my pulse has picked up. “Do you want to take it out on my body, Lover?”

Usually, that’s enough to change his posture. To pull the predator out in him—the one that thrives on control, on using me to burn through whatever mood he’s in. Usually, I’d get the flicker of a smirk when I’ve given him permission.

But now, there’s nothing. Just confusion in his eyes, and it’s wrong. It’s Liam, but it’s not.

He shakes his head slowly, and for a second, he almost looks… lost. “No,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

My heart leaps into my throat. Liam isn’t used to not knowing what he wants. That uncertainty is foreign to him, and I know it’s making him furious in ways he doesn’t even want to admit.

“Come with me,” I tell him.

His brows draw together. “Where?”

“Somewhere quiet.” I don’t give him a chance to argue. My hand closes around his wrist, and I start walking. He doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t even question it. He just falls into step beside me, letting me lead.

The next surprise comes when we reach the parking lot.

His car is parked in the usual spot, sleek and gleaming, a possession he guards as tightly as anything in his life.

I expect him to walk to the driver’s side without a word.

But instead, he digs into his pocket, pulls out the keys, and tosses them to me.

I catch them, staring down at the key in my palm like it’s a weapon. “You want me to drive?”

“Yeah.” He slides into the passenger seat without hesitation, shutting the door with a quiet finality that makes my stomach twist.

Liam has a black Aston Martin DB11, and he does not allow anyone to drive it. Not even me. That’s when I know for sure, this isn’t just him blowing off steam. Something else is dangerously wrong.

The silence in the car is thick. I don’t bother trying to fill it. The quiet hum of the engine and the sound of tires against asphalt are enough, and I know if I press him too soon, he’ll shut down.

I take the long way out of town, winding through narrow roads until the noise of campus fades. By the time we hit the dirt road that leads up to the ridge, the only sound left is gravel crunching under the tires.

The lookout is empty, just as I hoped. A weathered wooden railing marks the edge, the kind that’s stood through years of storms and still hasn’t fallen. There’s a picnic table covered in carved initials and crude hearts—ghosts of people who wanted to be remembered here.

I kill the engine, pocket the keys, and push my door open. “Come on.”

Liam follows without a word, moving toward the edge of the lookout. The wind catches his hair and pulls his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are locked on the horizon, fixed on the fading light.

I join him at the railing, leaning my forearms on the wood. The air is cooler up here, and I let it sit between us.

Eventually, he speaks.

“I don’t understand you.” His voice is quieter than I’m used to.

I glance at him, catching the slight crease between his brow. “That’s nothing new.”

His lips twitch like he wants to smirk but can’t quite get there. “No. I mean, I don’t understand what you make me feel.”

That earns my full attention. “What do I make you feel, Liam?”

There’s a pause, long enough that I think he’s going to drop it. But then he exhales, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “Unstable.”

It’s not the answer I expected. “That’s—”

“Not a compliment, Pup.” He cuts me off, his tone flat but lacking the edge it usually carries. His hands curl around the railing, knuckles whitening. “You make me feel things I don’t fucking understand, and I hate it.”

It’s not said to wound. If anything, it sounds like a confession he’s fighting himself to get out. It wrecks me. Because for all the control he wields, all the ways he moves people like chess pieces, Liam Callahan doesn’t know what to do with something as simple as emotions.

“You’ve turned me into something I was never supposed to be.” He takes a step back from the railing, dragging a hand down his face, and I watch his left hand twitch. “I haven’t felt this fucking unstable since my mother locked me in that freezer when I was ten.”

The words slam into me, and my mind stutters, but he’s still going. “Not since I stopped taking those fucking pills that made my head heavy, that made me a fucking zombie so I wouldn’t feel this!” He motions to himself, to his rage, to his confusion, his fingers curling into fists.

“And it’s you, Nate. You did this to me.” His gaze snaps to mine, wild and furious. “You’re my fucking weakness.”

There’s venom in the word, but beneath it is something else. Something closer to fear.

“I don’t want this feeling from someone I was never supposed to want.” His voice cracks, his fists shaking at his sides. “I don’t want to be fucking weak.”

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? He thinks feeling anything for me, for anyone, is a vulnerability. But even with all this, my mind is snagged on one thing, one sentence I don’t even think he realizes he let slip.

Since my mother locked me in that freezer when I was ten.

And for the first time, I wonder what the fuck Liam came from.

But I push it down because now isn’t the time, especially since he’s still going, his voice spiraling into something more frantic, more desperate. “You’re my fucking weakness—”

I cross the space between us, grab his face in both hands, and kiss him—hard enough to shut him up, final enough to make the point that I’m not letting him twist this into something ugly.

Liam has spent months pushing me. Pulling me apart and putting me back together the way he wants, twisting me into something he can control, something that bends but never breaks. He’s owned every second of my fucking existence, every breath, every thought, every weakness.

And I’ve let him because he made me crave it. Because every time he praised me, every time he told me I was his, every time he made me feel it, I believed him.

If ignoring Liam all those months ago has shown me anything, it’s that I can break him, too. I don’t have to wait for him to unravel me, and I don’t have to give in every time he pulls. I don’t have to let him own me without taking something in return.

I can control this.

I can control him.

So, I pull back first.

I feel the second it hits him—the second he realizes I’m the one who’s taking away the thing he didn’t want to admit he needed.

Liam’s breath hitches, when I step back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, tilting my head slightly as I watch him.

“You’re right, Callahan,” I say as I remove his keys from my pocket and put them against his chest. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Liam’s hand comes up fast, grabbing the keys before they can fall, but he doesn’t look down at them. His eyes are still locked on me, narrowed, hard in a way that feels less like pure anger and more like he’s building walls in real time. His jaw flexes twice before he speaks.

“You think walking away makes you the one in control?” His voice is quiet, which is somehow worse than if he were yelling. “That’s the problem, Nate—you think this is a fucking game.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “No, Liam. I think you’re trying to make me pay for something you can’t even define. You’re spiraling and looking for somewhere to dump it.”

“Spiraling,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. His mouth curves, but it’s not even close to a smile. “You think I’m spiraling because of you?”

My stomach knots because I know where this is going, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of backing down. “Yeah, I do. You said it yourself—”

“No, Pup. You’re just a distraction.”

The hit is so clean I almost don’t feel it at first. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying not to show it, but he sees everything. He always does.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he says, stepping in closer, the keys still clutched in his hand.

“You’re here because I let you be here, and you stay because you like how I make you feel when you’re underneath me.

You like the praise, the control, the way I can turn you into exactly what I want with a few words.

That’s why you’re still around. Not because you actually give a damn about me. ”

“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant it to, but I’m not going to let him rewrite this into something that insignificant.

“Is it?” His tone is flat, unbothered, like he’s just reciting a fact.

“Tell me, Nate—take away the sex, take away the dominance, take away the nights where you get to lose yourself in me—what’s left?

Don’t pretend it wasn’t about the way I fuck you and control you.

You want to talk about mistakes? That’s the mistake.

Thinking there was more to it than that. ”

My chest tightens, anger clawing at my ribs. “You really think I’m only here for that?”

His eyes cut into mine like he’s daring me to say otherwise.

“You’ve made it pretty clear. The second I stop giving you what you want in bed, you start pushing, start playing these little power games.

You don’t want me—you want what I do to you.

You’re not here for my thoughts, Nate. You’re not here because you want to sit in silence with me on a fucking ridge and figure out what’s going on in my head.

You’re here because you want my hands on you, my mouth on you, my voice telling you you’re mine. That’s our currency.”

The words are meant to cut, and they do, but I don’t let him see it. “If I’m just convenient, then why the fuck are you here right now? Why toss me your keys? Why let me drive your car?”

His jaw tightens. “Because even distractions have their uses.”

I turn like I’m going to walk away, just to put some space between us before I throw myself at him for all the wrong reasons. “Then maybe you should find another one.”

I hear the slight catch in his breath behind me before I walk back toward the car, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing whether he got to me or not.

Fuck him. I’ll make him feel the loss of me.

For the next few days, I ignore his texts. I don’t meet his eyes in practice and when we pass each other on campus, I don’t stop, don’t nod, I don’t even acknowledge him. I walk right by, making it look effortless.

And Liam hates it. He’s unraveling, and for once, it’s not because he planned it that way.

It takes three days before he breaks.

I’m stretched out on the Sigma Rho Alpha common room couch alone, my legs crossed at the ankles, and scrolling through my phone without much thought. The place is quiet, the kind of lazy afternoon where time feels slowed.

I can feel him standing behind me, I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him. My body knows before my mind catches up.

“Pup.”

His voice is soft and not the usual coaxing softness or sharp command. Now his tone is threaded with an edge of desperation I’ve never heard from him before.

I smirk, still looking down at my phone. “Something you need, Callahan?”

A pause. Then a quick inhale, controlled but not calm. “Stop fucking ignoring me.”

I let the words hang there before I finally glance up. Tilting my head slightly, I let my gaze skim over him before meeting his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want a weakness.”

His jaw flexes, and his hands curl into fists. “Nate—”

“Say it.” I sit up slowly, dragging my fingertips along the armrest. “Say you need me. Tell me I’m not your fucking weakness.”

He freezes. I can see the calculation in his eyes, the awareness that I’m baiting him, that I’m holding the power now. He knows exactly what I’m doing, and I can almost hear his teeth grinding as he tries to decide whether to play or walk away.

But he stays, even though I can see the act of standing here and swallowing his pride is taking something out of him. He lowers himself to his haunches next to me, taking my hand in his and says, “I need you, Pup.”

The words settle between us, stretching out the silence. I watch the way he waits for my reaction, how his muscles stay tight like he’s bracing for what I’ll do next. It’s not just words. It’s a crack in the foundation he’s so carefully built.

Then I push off the couch and walk past him, not looking back to see his expression. I don’t stop walking, I don’t hesitate or check to see if he follows. I already know he will, even though he’s seconds away from snapping.

Now he knows what it feels like. He knows what it means to want something so fucking badly and have no control over whether or not he gets it.

I make my way upstairs, and when I push open my bedroom door and step inside, Liam is right behind me. I feel him there, just a breath away, his energy crackling in the air, thick and unsteady.

I step farther inside my room, hearing the door shut behind him. The soft click seals us in, trapping us together in this space where there’s no one else, no outside world, nothing but us.

I exhale slowly before finally turning to face him.