"What game are you playing now, Marina?" Max's face hovered inches from mine, his warm breath washing over my skin—yet it carried nothing but bone-deep coldness and revulsion. "Weren't you the one who had Ramona call me? Crying and begging for me to come back? And now that I'm here, you're playing mute? Trying the hard-to-get routine with me?"
His eyes dripped with contempt, his lips curling into a cruel sneer as he leaned in. The reek of alcohol and Gretchen's perfume hit me first—that cloying sweetness coiling around me like something venomous. My stomach lurched. The hatred I'd buried came roaring back.
I thrashed against him, but my strength was nothing compared to his. He had my wrists pinned, my body immobilized, every attempt to break free only making his grip tighten until my bones ached.
Desperation sharpened into something feral. I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his lip with everything I had.
"Ngh—" Max grunted, the metallic taste of blood blooming between us. He released me instantly, shoving me back as he scrambled upright. His fingers came away from his mouth smeared red. The look he gave me could have curdled milk—pure, undiluted venom.