Chapter 174 The Snap

Chapter 174 The Snap
I didn’t give him time to breathe.

The moment the last accusation left my mouth, the moment the words you’re no better than her hit the air, something inside me broke open. All the fear, all the anger, all the confusion — it surged up at once.

“You can’t just stand there!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You can’t just stare out the window like none of this matters!”

He didn’t turn.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t even blink.

That made something inside me twist.

“Say something!” I yelled. “Anything! You dragged us out of that diner like we were objects. You terrified Eliza. You terrified me. And now you’re just— what? Pretending you didn’t do anything wrong?”

His shoulders rose once, sharply.

But he stayed silent.

“God, Nate, seriously?” I said, stepping closer. “Do you even care what you did? Do you care how you made us feel? Do you care that you scared us?”

His jaw tightened — a small, sharp movement.

I pushed harder.

“You think you’re protecting people,” I said. “But you’re not. You’re hurting them. You’re hurting us. You’re hurting me.”

His fingers curled at his sides.

“You’re just like her,” I said, voice shaking with fury. “Just like Alexandra.”

That was the moment he snapped.

Not with a punch.

Not with a shove.

Not with violence.

He snapped with a sound — a sharp, guttural exhale that tore out of him as it hurt. His shoulders jerked, his head dropped forward, and for the first time since the diner, he moved.

He turned around so fast it startled me.

His eyes weren’t calm anymore.

They were alive.

Burning.

Wounded.

Angry.

And underneath all of it — betrayed.

“You think I’m like her?” he said, voice shaking. “You think I’m like Alexandra?”

The way he said her name made my stomach twist — as if the word itself tasted like poison.

I opened my mouth, but he didn’t give me the chance.

“You think I dragged you out of that diner because I wanted control?” he said, stepping toward me. His voice rose, not shouting, but sharp enough to cut. “Because I wanted power? Because I wanted to scare you?”

I stumbled back a step, my spine hitting the edge of the couch. My throat tightened, my breath catching. His face wasn’t blank anymore — it was alive, flushed with anger and hurt and something deeper, something raw.

He took another step, closer now, close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose too fast, too uneven.

“He called Eliza low-hanging fruit.”

The words came out louder this time — not a yell, but a crack of sound that made my heart jump.

My breath caught, my lungs tightening painfully.

“He said she was easy.”

My knees weakened. I grabbed the back of the couch to steady myself, fingers digging into the fabric.

“He said she was a backup plan.”

The room tilted. My vision wavered at the edges.

“He said she was a downgrade.”

My throat closed, a sharp ache blooming behind my sternum.

“He said he was babysitting.”

My vision blurred, the city lights behind Nate smearing into streaks of gold and white.

Nate’s voice rose — not loud, but sharp, cutting through the air like glass. “He said she’d believe anything he told her. He said she was stupid. He said she was pathetic.”

My heart stuttered, a painful skip that made my breath hitch.

“He said he’d ditch her after food.”

My stomach twisted, nausea rising in a hot wave.

“He said he’d be at a party on Fifth by eleven.”

My breath broke, a thin, fractured sound escaping my throat.

“He said all of that,” Nate said, voice cracking, “while she was in the bathroom.”

I felt sick.

I felt cold.

I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

But Nate wasn’t finished.

He stepped closer — not threatening, but desperate, furious, wounded. His eyes locked onto mine, bright with betrayal.

“And you want to know what he said about you?”

My chest tightened, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

“He said you were plain.”

My breath hitched, a sharp sting blooming behind my eyes.

“He said you were painfully sweet.”

My throat closed, my breath catching in a painful knot.

“He said men like him — men like me — could do better.”

My stomach twisted, a hollow ache spreading through my chest.

“He said you’d believe anything he told you.”

My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the couch harder, nails biting into the fabric.

“He said you were the kind of girl men use when they’re bored.”

I felt the words like blows — not physical, but deep, sharp, cutting straight through the center of me. My breath came in short, uneven bursts. My vision blurred again, this time from tears I didn’t remember forming.

Nate’s voice didn’t soften.

It didn’t calm.

It didn’t apologize.

It cracked.

“He said all of that,” he said, voice shaking, “about you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Nate’s chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his hands trembling at his sides. His eyes were bright — not with tears, but with something worse. Something raw. Something that looked like pain.

“You think I’m like her?” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You think I’m like Alexandra?”

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

“You think I hit him because I wanted control?” Nate said. “Because I wanted to scare you? Because I wanted to be her?”

His voice broke.

“I hit him because he was going to hurt you.”

My breath caught.

“I hit him because he was going to hurt Eliza.”

My chest tightened.

“I hit him because he was a predator.”

My knees weakened.

“And I hit him,” Nate said, voice shaking, “because you didn’t hear what he said.”

The room felt too small.

Too quiet.

Too bright.

Too dark.

I stared at him, unable to form a single word. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My throat felt scraped clean, my breath stuck somewhere between my ribs and my heart.

Nate didn’t move.

He didn’t soften.

He didn’t apologize.

He just stood there, breathing unevenly, eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to understand.

Waiting for me to see.

Waiting for me to speak.

But I couldn’t.

I was speechless.

Completely.

Utterly.

Speechless.