No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 154

ROMAN’S POV

“Let him go, Ethan.” Lauren’s voice came from behind me, sharp and steady. It cut straight through the rumble of my blood and the tightness in my jaw. I could feel the heat of the moment like a live wire between us.

Ethan hadn’t lost his touch. Christ, he never did. But if he thought for one second I’d forgotten how to move, how to react, how to take control, then he was badly mistaken. That arrogance, he wore it like armor was exactly what got him in trouble.

The hold he had on my arm was iron–quick and old–trained, the kind of grip born from practice and resentment. I felt the twist, felt the pressure, and then made a decision I’d made a thousand times in other rooms, other fights: I popped my shoulder out on purpose. Pain flared hot and immediate, then there was the strange, freeing looseness as the joint slipped out of place. I worked my hand until it was flexible, breath tight in my chest, and then pushed.

Ethan stumbled back a step as I shoved him away hard enough to carve a line into the air between us. I took a beat, bracing, then pushed my shoulder back into place with a sharp, practiced motion and rolled my hand to test it. The little ritual was so familiar that for a second the world steadied. The joint slid home with a muted click and the pain folded into a dull ache. Fine. Functional.

How had I trained myself to do this? College days of sparring, late nights learning to be harder than my fear had left me with a shoulder I could dislocate when I wanted and pop back just as intentionally. It was a cheap trick people mocked, but when a fight turned messy, tricks were survival. I’d gambled, and the gamble had paid off. 1

Ethan rolled up his sleeves with a slow, deliberate motion like he was preparing for a proper fight. That motion told me everything. I wasn’t the only one who remembered how to escalate. He wanted it. He’d always wanted to finish old scores.

I shrugged my coat off and threw it carelessly onto a nearby chair. It felt good, ridiculously good to have a reason to move like this again. Violence cleared the fog sometimes; it left you sharpened, focused. I hadn’t danced like this in far too long.

Lauren stepped quickly into the space between us, a thin human barrier, hand raised. “Stop. This is not happening here,” she said, voice low and urgent.

I registered the plea and the apology in her expression. I could stop. I was calm enough to stop. But Ethan wasn’t listening to Lauren; he was full of his own venom. He moved like a struck animal, fist arced toward me in a straight, dangerous line that ignored everything in its path including Lauren.

In an instant, I reacted. I pivoted, pulling Lauren’s arm and turning my back to Ethan, making my body a shield. The first blow landed on my back. It wasn’t clean, it stung, like someone slamming into a slab of concrete but it was better that it hit me than her. I grunted and let the pain drive the next action rather than cloud it.

My elbow came back hard and fast, clocking the side of his head. He staggered, balance lost. A smile, small and sharp crept onto my face. He was sloppy. He’d always been sloppy when anger replaced strategy. That one advantage had saved more fights than I cared to admit.

He reset too quickly; his fist was already arcing for my face before I had time to raise a guard. This one landed under my left eye like a punch from a brick. Pain exploded across my cheek, a red–hot bloom building

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CHAPTER 0154

+25 BONUS

immediately. For a heartbeat the world warped; bricks, light, the thunder in my ears. Enough.

It was time to end it, not dance around it. I baited him with just a finger, the universal taunt. He took it.

His arm shot out like a spear. My hand closed on his wrist. I didn’t just stop his punch; I turned his momentum against him. Muscle memory took over: a twist, a step, and the sound of him hitting the floor was heavy and final. I moved with the kind of precision you don’t have to think about, only feel. I slid into position, caught his arm, and locked it into an armbar.

Pain is loud in a fight. There was no mistaking the small scream that cut from him when I twisted. I felt the sleeve crumple under my fingers as his shoulder resisted then surrendered with a sickening pop. The joint gave with a sound that made my teeth ache to hear, and his hand flew instinctively to clutch at the place I’d just torqued.

He screamed raw, startled, indignant. It filled the room with another kind of noise, the kind that turns even the bravest into startled boys.

I levered him upright, forced his shoulders back until he was grimacing, swearing, and blinking in the light. Don’t you ever touch her again,” I said without shouting, my voice a calm thing edged with the kind of threat men only whisper when they know the other side will listen.

I tightened my grip on his shirt, and for a second he looked like he might try something desperate. I made the choice for him. I dragged him a few steps to the front door, each motion methodical and controlled so it looked like an action, not a panic. The universe had a way of tilting when someone like Ethan got shoved out of a home he clearly thought belonged to him.

I put my shoulder into the door and pushed. He went out as I said he would: feet skidding on the welcome mat, surprised to find himself on the wrong side of the frame he had tried to cross with arrogant entitlement.

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