I drew a deep breath, filling my chest with cold air, forcing down the crimson rage flooding my vision and the hatred threatening to consume me. I didn't look at Max. I didn't respond to a single word he'd said. I walked straight to the bed and sat down stiffly, my back ramrod straight—like a statue without a soul.
When he saw me ignore his mockery, when I refused to speak, the sneer on Max's face vanished instantly, replaced by thick irritation and impatience. He crossed the distance between us in a few strides, his eyes dark and menacing. Before I could react, he grabbed my arm with crushing force—hard enough to grind bone—and flung me onto the bed.
The mattress let out a muffled thud. My head spun from the impact. Before I could struggle, he was already pressing down on me, his hands clamping my wrists above my head, pinning them there with such force that pain shot through my arms. I couldn't move.