Page 92 of Unleashed By Eden

I straighten and meet her gaze. She’s waiting for the familiar reaction—the defensive scramble, the sharpness in my voice—but that girl has dissolved somewhere in the space between my laughter and this breath.

“Cindy,” I start, and my tone is steady, almost bored. “Whatever you thought you had over me? It’s gone.”

She blinks, confused. Her brain can’t load the idea that I’m not folding in on myself the way I used to. There’s something almost pathetic about it.

“You know, for years I let the shit you said burrow into me. I treated your opinion like it meant something. But the truth is . . .” I shrug, a small, almost amused huff leaving me. “You were just hurting me to feel better about yourself.”

Her face twitches, and for the first time I see it—the insecurity she’s always tried to throw onto me so she didn’t have to hold it herself.

“Hurt people hurt people, right?” I say. “But that doesn’t make it okay. It just makes it sad.”

I tilt my head, studying her, taking in the grown woman who still acts like she’s trapped in a high school hallway. “I honestly hoped—for your sake—that adulthood would’ve knocked some sense into you. Because the world really doesn’t need more assholes. But . . . judging by tonight?” I lift a brow. “Doesn’t look like much has changed.”

Liam shifts beside me, but I don’t break eye contact with Cindy.

“And here’s the part that surprises even me,” I continue, my voice dropping low. “I used to picture what I’d do if I ever saw you again. Thought I’d get this . . . sick, poetic satisfaction watching you fall apart. Cry. Maybe even piss yourself if I really wanted to get creative.” I give a small, humorless laugh. “All this time, I thought punching you would make me feel better.”

I lift my head, not rising to her level but rising past it.

“But I don’t need that anymore. I don’t need to hurt you to feel whole. I don’t need revenge to feel powerful.”

Cindy’s mouth opens. No words.

“I don’t know who you are now,” I say, softer. “But from where I’m standing? It looks like more of the same old Cindy wearing a grown-up face. And that’s your problem to deal with. Not mine.”

I let out a final breath. Time for one last truth bomb.

“I hope you find something real to build yourself around. Because I finally have.”

Cindy’s posture fractures a hairline crack. She looks past me as if searching for someone—anyone—to rescue her. To agree with her version of reality. To make this feel like a win. But no one’s watching. Everyone else is too busy indulging in their own debauchery to notice her unraveling.

Liam doesn’t move. He’s still in shock.

Carter doesn’t spare her a look. His eyes stay on me, pride sitting plain in them.

Cindy’s face flushes, embarrassment finally catching up. She swallows, flicks her eyes at Carter again, as if he might suddenly change his mind, then forces a stiff little nod that’s probably meant to be dignified.

Without a single comeback, she turns and walks away.

It’s anticlimactic, and it’s perfect.

A moment of silence falls between us.

Then Liam slowly lifts his hands and starts clapping, a grin spreading across his face.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Vi . . . I mean . . . damn.”

Carter still doesn’t move. The corner of his mouth hooks up, approval written all over him.

Warmth spreads through me from my toes to my scalp.

His approval isn’t something I need—that victory was mine—but the way he’s looking at me now . . . I soak in every second of it.

I inhale a slow, steady breath. The haze of alcohol has disappeared, but I still feel lighter.

“That,” Liam says, “was a long time coming.”

Before I can react, he steps in and slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side-hug.