STEVE POV
I looked down at Mark’s hands—his weak, shaking fingers bunching up my shirt. I didn’t flinch. I didn't even move to strike him. I just felt a cold, dark satisfaction. He had given me the excuse I needed, I have never forgiven him for hurting Freya the last time.
“I have been looking forward to seeing this miserable face,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. I leaned in until our foreheads almost touched. “I’m glad you crossed the line again.”
With a sudden, violent shove, I threw him back. Mark hit the floor hard, his limbs tangling with the chair he had just kicked over. I didn’t wait for him to find his feet. I turned on my heel and walked toward the exit
“Wait! Where are you going? Who are you?!” Mark screamed with a panicked voice
I reached the door and stepped through.
