Still You Still Me Still Falling novel Chapter 3

By the time Sheila finally sprinted into the bar, the atmosphere remained terrifyingly volatile. Her coworker was physically holding back a battered Simon, while on the opposing side, Thurston was grappling to restrain Edmond.

Simon was staring literal daggers at the other man, looking eager to tear the man apart barehanded.-

Edmond's devastatingly handsome features were tightly twisted with fierce, chaotic frustration.

This was a man who usually operated with unshakable composure. Back when they had actually been together, she had rarely ever witnessed him lose control. The singular time he had—when some drunken patron had aggressively harassed her—Edmond had completely lost it, breaking the guy's nose in a single blow.

At the time, naive and deeply in love, she had foolishly believed his violent need to protect her proved she held a profound place in his heart. But it had all just been her desperately wishing for a lie to be true.

The flood of agonizing nostalgia cut deeply into her wounded chest. She furiously resented herself for being so utterly pathetic, yet she couldn't erase the terrifying truth that she had freely surrendered her entire heart to him.

"Sheila!" her coworker practically sobbed with relief, waving her down frantically. "Get over here!"

He was quickly losing his grip on the thrashing Simon.

"Simon!" Ignoring Edmond's existence entirely, she immediately rushed to his side. "Are you alright?"

His lip was split, bleeding heavily, and his normally pristine hair was chaotic and thoroughly disheveled.

Across the room, Thurston refused to let go of his friend's collar. Having grown up beside Edmond, he understood the titan better than anyone alive. The rest of the world might only see an imposing wall of ice. But Thurston could visibly read the intense, agonizing fury bleeding through his eyes.

He had stepped out of their private booth slightly late, entirely missing whatever sparked the blowout. Evidently, something unforgivable had been said, because by the time he arrived, his elegant, controlled friend was engaged in a vicious physical brawl with the stranger.

Never in his wildest dreams did Thurston expect someone so disciplined and strictly proper to brawl in a dingy nightclub like a thug.

Any proximity to this woman—or any man who touched her—flipped a psychotic switch inside of him.

Pulling firmly at his sleeve, Thurston commanded, "We are leaving. Now."

The threat choked off whatever insult Thurston was about to spit. He aggressively stared back in complete and total bewilderment.

Was he actually about to apologize to her? This ruthless powerhouse—a man literally born to sit at the absolute pinnacle of their cutthroat society—submitting?

Edmond's blazing stare hadn't strayed from her face. It was the exact same frozen, deadened look she had brutally aimed at him three years ago when she tore out his heart. Except her vibrant face no longer carried that infectious warmth she had exclusively reserved for him.

This was the woman who had spent hours tangled up in his sheets, only to mercilessly blindside him without a singular word of genuine explanation.

*It was just a fling.*

That was her entire justification.

For the past three godforsaken years, trapped alone on countless sleepless nights, those poisonous words had continued to violently echo through his hollow chest.