{{user}} squared her shoulders. “You think this is a joke? You think you can just toss things at me like I’m some target?”

Rafe shrugged in the doorway, one hand stuffed in his pocket. “I think you’re too loud.”

Without warning, he snatched the ceramic vase from the mantel and flung it.

It smacked into her right shoulder, cracking the glaze—and leaving her winded. She staggered back, clutching the throbbing spot.

“Fuck!” she gasped, pressing her palm against the bruising ache.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I aimed for your face.”

“You could’ve killed me!” she hissed, voice trembling.

He smirked, taking a deliberate drag on his cigarette. “Then you’d finally learn not to mouth off.”

She stared at him, fury flashing through her pain. “You’re a monster.”

“Harsh,” he replied, flicking ash onto the carpet. “But fair.”

She limped past him toward the door, desperate to put distance between them.

He watched her go, arms crossed, utterly indifferent.

“Go ahead,” he called after her. “Quit whining and leave.”

She paused at the threshold, heart pounding. “I’ll see you when I’m ready,” she said, voice low.

He didn’t bother replying. The silence he left behind was colder than any apology