Page 96 of Dreamscape Therapies

“He…”

“He made you order coffee you didn't like?” Eric supplies. “He grew a beard? He worked sixty-hour weeks to keep his business afloat? Oh, the horror.”

A few customers snicker and Trent's face darkens.

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Actually, I do,” Eric says, and the humor disappears from his voice. “Because Vincent told me everything while it was happening. So your story doesn't add up, my dude. It never did.”

“HE'S LYING!” Trent spins back toward me and points an accusing finger. “He's lying about everything! I'm going to the police! I'm going to tell them you threatened me! I'm going to tell them you've been stalking me!”

My pulse spikes again, but I keep my voice low. “I haven't contacted you in almost a year. I've been minding my own fucking business while you manipulated a weaver into torturing me in my sleep.”

His eyes widen, just for a second, before the mask slides back into place. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” I step out from behind the bar. My legs feel shaky, but I force myself forward. “You told Dany I was abusive. You showed her bruises from our consensual play sessions and told her I'd forced you. You cried and played the victim until she agreed to use her abilities to keep me from sleeping. For months, Trent. Months.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

My voice is steadier now, even though my heart is still pounding. “She knows the truth. She knows you manipulated her, and she's given a statement to the police.”

Trent's face drains of color. “You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“YOU'RE LYING! I'LL SUE YOU!” His voice echoes through the bar. “I'll sue you for defamation! For slander! I'll tell everyone you're a fucking stalker! I'll tell them you threatened to kill me!”

“You'll do nothing of the sort,” Eric says, holding up his phone. “Because I've got this entire meltdown recorded. Every word. Every threat. Every lie.”

Trent freezes.

His eyes lock onto the phone, and for the first time since he walked through the door, he looks genuinely afraid.

Relief floods through me so quickly I almost feel dizzy.

It's over.

Eric's grin returns. “So here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave. You're never going to contact Vincent again, and you're going to stop spreading lies about him.”

He pauses, his grin widening.

“And if you don't? I'm going to make you fucking viral, buddy. TikTok. Instagram. Facebook. Twitter. Reddit. LinkedIn. Everywhere. Like herpes, you'll be impossible to get rid of.”

Hale makes a face.

“That's some strong imagery.”

Eric ignores him.

“You can't do that,” Trent whispers.

“Watch me.”

“I'll sue you!”

“For what?” Eric laughs. “Recording someone having a public meltdown? Good luck finding a lawyer who wants that headache.”

Trent looks around the bar, searching desperately for something; an ally, a sympathetic face, anyone who might step in and validate his version of events.