Iris's POV
Cade's brows knotted in fury.
"I knocked, but you didn't answer," I said, my voice steady, though my heart thudded loud and fast in my chest as I saw the fury in his eyes. His glare was unrelenting as it pierced coldly through the thin of my veil.
Before I could utter another word, he stormed toward me. Water dripped from his still-wet hair, trailing down his bare chest and soaking into the low-slung waistband of the towel around his waist. He looked like a handsome devil storm incarnate, half-drenched, blue-eyed, all fury. His hand shot out and yanked the photograph from my fingers, the paper slightly bent under his forceful grab but it didn't tear.
"How dare you touch that?" he snarled. "What are you doing here?"
"I…" I began, but he didn't let me finish.
"First, you come into my room without permission, and now you're searching my things?"
"I wasn't…" I stuttered, my voice catching in my throat. "I was just…"
But Cade wasn't listening. He turned abruptly and stormed toward his dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and pulled out a thick, worn leather-bound book. His fingers were far gentler now as he tucked the photograph between the pages, shutting it with an almost reverent touch before returning the book to its place.
Then he turned back to me swiftly, approaching me.
Without warning, he closed the distance and grabbed my wrist. "Get out," he ordered, yanking me toward the door like I was some kind of intruder, unwelcome, unwanted, and entirely beneath him.
I resisted, jerking my arm hard enough to tear free. "Get your damn hands off me!" I shouted, boldness in my voice. "I didn't break into your room! The door wasn't locked, Cade. That's not on me. You're lucky I didn't walk in with a knife and slit your arrogant throat wide open while you were in the shower with soap in your eyes!"
His eyes darkened instantly. The rage shifted, deepened, transformed into something worse. He move, closing the space between us again in two long strides. His hand lashed out, gripping my arm harder this time, his fingers digging into my skin like iron shackles. His face hovered inches from mine, close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath.
"Listen to me," he growled, low and threatening. "You will never speak to me in such a manner again. Or I swear…I'll chop off your tongue."
I didn't flinch. There was no fear in me. I was too angry. And immediately, my eyes flicked past his shoulder to the small table just behind him. A small fruit knife caught my attention. Left carelessly by his bedside.
Without thinking, I tore myself from his grip, took a few steps, and grabbed the knife. I spun to face him, the knife in my outstretched hand to him, pointing aimed straight at his chest.
"Here," I said, my voice sounded cold. "Do it. Chop off my tongue."
Cade stared at me, really stared as I saw his anger shift into frustration. His chest heaved with frustrated breaths as he pinched the skin in between his brows, letting out a sigh. His lips parted like he meant to say something, but no words came. His eyes then moved from the knife to my face, and something shifted behind them.
Letting out a frustrated groan, he turned his back on me, slamming his hand on the mirror as it shattered around the room, his hand bleeding fusely but he didn't act like he felt the pain. He had always been the hot tempered one and I wasn't surprised he did that.
I watched as the blood dripped down.
His hands then went to his wet hair, weaving through it with force as he paced. Back and forth.
"Take the damn clothes and leave," he muttered finally. His voice was tight with restraint as if holding himself from unleashing something dangerous.
He grabbed the knife from my hand, not with violence, but with a sudden, exhausted swipe and tossed it away and It clattered across the floor, the blade gleaming briefly before it slid beneath the dresser and disappeared from view.
And for a moment, silence stretched between us.
"Take the cloth and leave." He repeated, his back was still against me.
"Fine." I walked past him, approaching every corner of the room where the littered clothes were left as I began to pick them up one after another, the clothes I'd originally come for, and clutched them to my chest.
Lyra still burning in fury in my head, I turned toward the edge of his messy bed now, where the other set of piles of dirty laundry sat waiting. I moved, collecting the scattered clothes and trying not to think about the fact that this was the second time I'd been humiliated today. Angrily turning to leave, my foot gripped the edge of a shirt as I stumbled and hit the center table, my balance shifted and then I stumbled backward, reaching out for anything to stop myself from falling but my hand suddenly and slightly caught Cade's forearm but it was too late, my legs gave way as I fell back backward to the bed, Cade stumbling forward, both of us landed in a sudden, graceless fall. My back hit the mattress with a dull whump just as Cade's body landed on top of me only for me to realise his towel had gone off.