Chapter 4After My Fiancée Called Me Boring, I Canceled the Wedding

Over the next few days, I began packing, removing every trace of myself, along with my heart.

Meanwhile, Molly sat in the living room video-calling Reese, her laughter flirtatious and sweet.

"Davis finally got rid of that ugly ornament." Molly held up her phone, grinning at the empty space where my things had been.

Reese's smug laughter came through the speaker. "Davis really does do as he's told. From now on, don't even bother asking him. Just do it."

I didn't react. I turned and went upstairs.

That evening, Molly brought Reese home.

Her excuse was that his apartment was being renovated and he had nowhere to stay.

The second Reese walked in, he casually tossed his jacket onto the armchair where I always sat.

"Just crashing for one night. You don't mind, right?"

I acted like I hadn't seen him and went upstairs to the study.

The study was dark, lit only by the glow of the computer screen.

I pulled up the security cameras. The screen split into multiple feeds.

In the living room, Molly sat beside Reese, feeding him freshly washed fruit by hand.

In the bedroom, Reese's suitcase sat brazenly on my side of the bed.

Molly's ragdoll cat used to love curling up on my lap. Not anymore.

Now it was nuzzling against Reese's leg, purring for his attention.

Molly watched the cat and laughed. "Looks like even she prefers Reese over her boring old owner."

I shut off the feeds and calmly packed my last bag.

If her world had no place for me, then I'd return to mine.

Late that night, Molly pushed open the door, with the smell of alcohol and Reese clinging to her.

"Reese had too much to drink. You're sleeping on the couch tonight.

"He says he can only sleep in a real bed."

"Fine." I grabbed a thin blanket and walked straight out of the study.

Passing through the living room, I saw Reese lounging on the couch, playing with the lighter Molly had given him, the one that had been mine.

It was one of the Family's heirlooms, engraved with the Winchester crest.

Reese spotted me and curled his lip into a mocking smile.

He made a show of spinning the lighter between his fingers, then tossed it onto the floor. It hit with a sharp, metallic crack.

That was a provocation. A declaration of war.

"Pick it up!"

"Davis, you still don't get it—" Before he could finish, I'd already locked my hand around his wrist with practiced precision.

Then a single, effortless twist.

A clean snap echoed through the room, and Reese's hand hung at a grotesque angle.

He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock.

I straightened my cuffs, unhurried, revealing the edge of a black tattoo, the hidden mark of the Winchester Family.

Reese opened his mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a howl of pain, his voice cracking.

Then came Molly's scream, raw, broken, and choked with tears.

But none of it concerned me anymore.

I walked out the front door, pulled off the gold-rimmed glasses I'd worn as part of my disguise, and tossed them into a roadside trash can.

A black Lincoln bearing the Winchester crest was parked nearby.

As I approached, my underboss Greene opened the door with a respectful bow. "Welcome home, sir."