in the chest. Ryan stumbled into the cooler, spilling ice across the deck.
“Or what?” Derek sneered.
Ryan stepped forward again. “You don’t touch me. You don’t humiliate her.”
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Then Derek punched him in the mouth.
Ryan’s head jerked sideways. Blood appeared on his lower lip. Something inside me became completely still—not from anger or fear, but the same calm I’d felt beneath arena lights, when ten thousand spectators roared and all I heard was my breathing.
I stood.
Derek pointed toward me. “Sit down, sweetheart. This doesn’t concern you.”
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I glanced at Ryan. He wiped blood from his mouth, watching me intently. He knew. He always had. He alone understood that walking away was the safest thing I could do for Derek.
Then Derek seized my wrist.