Chapter 71 I Hate You His words slithered down my spine like a snake, coating every nerve with unease. “I hate seeing you with that guy.” Dean’s voice cracked with something raw and desperate, but laced with an ugly undercurrent. His head dropped against my chest, his cheek rubbing against me side to side like a restless child seeking comfort. “You win, Savannah. End this charade with him. Please, Sav. Just… please.” The stench of whiskey wrapped itself around me, thick and nauseating. Every syllable he spoke reeked, sliding up my nose and sticking in the back of my throat. My hand trembled at my side, itching toward my phone that was now ringing but Dean’s hand was already there. His grip tightened around it, his knuckles pale, daring me to try and take it back. “Please, Sav,” he murmured again, lips grazing my skin with a tremor that made my flesh crawl. “I know you still want me.” A violent jolt ran through my body like an electric shock. I twisted sharply, shoving his face away. Disgust made me want to keep clawing until I could erase his touch from my body. “Stop that!” But he was faster.His mouth crushed against mine before I had time to turn. His lips pressed down hard, suffocating, bruising, sealing off my air. His kiss was forceful and felt like the worst type of assault. To him, it might have felt passionate. But me, it was a theft. My chest burned, my lungs screaming, every instinct in me revolting at once. The urge to wretch rose sharp and acidic, and I would have kneed him hard if not for the fact that his thigh had conveniently wedged itself between mine, pinning me in place. He knew what he was doing, caging me, cutting off escape, forcing me to stay still. “Kiss me back, Sav,” he whispered against my mouth, his breath hot and laced with alcohol. “You don’t have to fight it. You used to want me.” I jerked my head to the side, his lips scraping across my cheek instead. “Get away from me!” My voice cracked, shrill. “I’d rather kiss slugs!” Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him backward with both palms. His balance faltered just enough. My hand flew before I could think, connecting with his face in a sharp, ringing slap. Then followed by another, before he could even recover from the first. The sound echoed off the tiled walls. His head snapped to the side. A red mark bloomed across his cheek almost instantly. “Are you out of your mind?!” My voice vibrated with fury. “I’m engaged! And you’re married, you fool!” I scrubbed the back of my hand over my lips until they stung. His laugh was unhinged. “It doesn’t matter. None of that bullshit matters! The heart wants who it fucking wants, Sav!” His words came out like the rambling of a madman, backed by desperation. “No.” My voice sliced through the air like a blade. “You don’t get to want me. Not after everything you’ve done. Not anymore.” Dean leaned closer again, planting his palm flat against the wall beside my head. The sound of skin meeting tiles reverberated in the small bathroom. His body boxed me in, his heat oppressive, suffocating. His wild eyes scanned my face with the hunger of a starving man staring down a meal. I turned my face to the side, meeting our reflection in the mirror. My stomach twisted in disgust. “I made a mistake,” he slurred, but beneath the slurry edges, there was steel. “I almost married the wrong woman. You were always the one. I hope it’s not too late to fix it.” “You’re married, Dean! And I don’t want you!” My chest heaved, every word sharpened by rage and fear. “And I don’t even love you anymore! God, I hate you!” For one fleeting second, the mask slipped. Hurt flickered across his face. His eyes softened just enough for me to see the boy I once loved hiding behind the alcoholic, the cheater, the manipulator. That boy that had dimples, a genuine smile, and laughter that once lit up rooms. But that boy was gone now. This man in front of me was nothing but rot. I straightened my spine, grounding myself against the wall and stared directly into his deception, refusing to let myself be pulled into his trap. “I’m not married,” he suddenly blurted, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The officiant’s license was expired. The whole thing is null and void.” He sighed dramatically, like confessing a painful truth. “Chloe thinks she can fuck me over and still win in the end? She needs to think again.” My heart thudded hard, but not with hope—only with dread. “You’re drunk and spouting garbage.” “Maybe.” His grin stretched slow and crooked. “But drunk words are sober truths, isn’t that what they say?” I shoved at his chest, but he barely budged. He only laughed. A low, guttural sound scraping along my nerves like nails on glass. “Get off me, Dean.” “You still feel it,” he murmured, leaning closer, the stink of liquor burning my nostrils. “Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes.” What he saw wasn’t desire. It was disgust. Fear. Rage. Hate. And the thought of Roman flickered through me like a lifeline. With Roman around, I couldn’t afford to be weak. I shoved again, harder, this time with everything in me. He stumbled back a step, his grin faltering for a moment before snapping back into place like a cracked mask. “You think Roman’s going to save you?” he sneered, straightening his shirt, brushing at his chest like my touch had dirtied him. “You think he’s different from me? He’s not. He’s way worse than me.” The words punched into my chest like stones. My throat tightened, but I forced my voice out steady. “Give me my phone, Dean.” He smirked, dangling it between two fingers before sliding it into his back pocket. “Not until you admit you still love me.”