Brent’s POV
The moment I saw them through the window, my body moved on its own, the anger surging through me like a storm I couldn’t hold back. My blood boiled, and before I even realized what I was doing, I stormed into the café. The bell above the door jingled sharply, but I barely registered the startled looks of the patrons. My focus was locked on Marcus.
He turned just in time to see my fist flying toward him. The impact sent him stumbling backward, clutching his jaw as the shocked gasps around us filled the room.
“Brent, what the hell?!” Betty’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and filled with disbelief as she stepped between us.
Bianca’s shrill voice followed immediately, her hands flying to her face in exaggerated horror. “Oh my God! What is wrong with you? I’ll sue you!”
I ignored her, pointing directly at Marcus as the fury in my chest spilled out. “So this is what keeps you so busy, huh? Marcus? Again?!”
Marcus held up his hands, his expression both shocked and defensive. “Brent, let me explain—”
But I wasn’t interested in explanations. The betrayal, the image of them together, and all the insecurities I’d tried to bury came roaring to the surface. I shoved past Betty, ignoring her protests, and swung again, my fist connecting with Marcus’s cheek this time.
“You had your chance with her!” I shouted, my voice shaking with anger and emotion. “Don’t you ever touch my girl again!”
“Brent, stop!” Betty yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling with all her strength. Her voice wavered, a mix of frustration and something I didn’t want to name.
But I couldn’t look at her—not yet. My eyes stayed fixed on Marcus, who was clutching his face, his expression shifting from surprise to something colder. For a split second, it looked like he might retaliate, but then he stepped back, shaking his head as if to defuse the situation.
“Brent, you’re out of line,” Marcus said, his tone low and even.
“Out of line?!” I barked, the anger surging back. But Betty’s grip on my arm tightened, and her voice cut through the haze.
“Brent, stop!” she shouted, her eyes blazing as she stepped between us again, her face inches from mine. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Her words stung, and for a moment, my resolve faltered. But the sight of her standing so close to Marcus, defending him, reignited the fire in my chest. Without another word, I grabbed her hand, my grip firm but not rough, and pulled her toward the door.
“Brent, let go!” she protested, but I didn’t stop.
The café’s chatter swelled behind us, whispers and gasps following us out the door. Bianca’s voice rang out one last time: “You’ll regret this, you lunatic!”
The cold air outside hit my face like a slap, but it did little to cool the anger burning inside me. Betty struggled slightly in my grip, but I didn’t let go until we reached the car.
I yanked the door open for her. “Get in,” I said, my voice tight and strained.
“Brent, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice low but sharp, her eyes blazing with confusion and frustration.
“Just get in, Betty,” I said again, softer this time but no less insistent.
Her hesitation was brief, and then she climbed into the car, slamming the door shut behind her. I rounded the front and got into the driver’s seat, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.
As the engine roared to life and I sped out of the parking lot, the silence between us was thick with words unsaid and emotions unchecked. My chest heaved, the adrenaline still coursing through me, and all I could think about was how close I’d come to losing her—to him.
The rain started to fall in heavy droplets, blurring the windshield, but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t—not yet. I needed to get us away from there, away from him. From everything.