Fat Cat Liar

Heartbroken.

Hollow.

At this moment, I don’t give a shit about myself, but I’ll do anything to wipe that look off her face.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll leave. Listen to me—”

I make the mistake of loosening one arm, and then I’m ripped away from her and flying across the room. She shrieks in horror, the sound reverberating through the space. Haley is at her side in an instant, shoving her back and out of the line of danger. A low, fierce growl erupts from my throat, and all I can see is red. Then he’s in my face, trying to ram me to the wall and secure my wrists.

I draw back a fist and swing, landing it on the man’s chin. He jerks back in surprise, his dark eyes growing black and his face turning to stone. Before I can draw back my fist again, I’m colliding with the floor. All the air is knocked out of me, and I know at least one rib is broken. I wheeze as my adrenaline soars.

He gets one wrist behind my back and yanks me up, pushing me toward the door. I twist, ready to punch him again, but this time, he’s ready for me. I barely feel his fist connect with my face, but the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and a shooting pain throbs in my cheek.

“Stan, stop!” Greer cries louder, Haley now holding her back.

Men in black uniforms swarm in, two of them securing me and tearing me away from the man named Stan.

“Get him out of here,” he tells the men as they haul me away.

My eye is swelling fast, blood sliding down my lip, and my ribs are screaming in protest, but none of it pains me as much as the torment etched on Greer’s face.

I struggle with all the strength I have to get out of their stronghold, but it’s no use.

“Please stop,” Greer mouths, her body visibly shaking as tears pour down her face.

It takes everything in me, but I do as she asks. The fight drains out of me, and I slump to one side, giving her a small nod.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” I tell her before I’m led away.

The men take no mercy in jostling me roughly to the elevator, then to the security office.

The next half-hour is a blur as the security team tries to figure out exactly how to deal with me. Stan arrives looking smug and leans against a wall, smirking. Everything hurts like hell, but I refuse to ask for medical attention.

All chatter stops, and heads swing to the door when Clay comes charging in, looking like he’s going to rip someone’s head off. His eyes land on me, and he flinches, his mouth drawing in a tight line.

“She called you,” I say as more of a statement than a question.

“Fuck yeah, she called me. You’re one lucky son of a bitch she’s not pressing charges.”

At this news, Stan straightens and a growl rumbles from his throat. It’s my turn to smirk at him.

The move splits my lip again, but satisfaction covers the pain.

“You here to take him home

?” Head of security asks Clay.

“Yes.” Clay jerks his head to me to move.

I stand, groaning at the throbbing in my ribcage. He steps over to help me, but I wave him off, trying to salvage what little pride I have left.

“Goes without saying you are no longer welcome in this department store,” one of them calls after me as I shuffle to the door.

I grunt in response and leave without looking back.

There’s no argument when Clay insists on driving me home. The ride to my place is quiet, but I know what he’s thinking.

“She looked broken. I broke her.”