Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 66

Marshall's POV

The door slammed behind us so hard it felt like the entire room shook. Before I could even breathe, something came flying at me—a vase. I ducked, and it shattered against the wall, glass exploding in every direction, shards tinkling across the floor like rain. I barely had time to register the sound before she grabbed another object—a glass this time—hurling it at my head with terrifying accuracy. I dodged just in time, the impact cracking against the brick behind me.

"You've fucking lost it, Leila!" I roared, my voice raw, the anger boiling inside me so hot it was hard to see straight. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the fury swirling between us. She stood there, breathing hard, eyes wild, her chest heaving like she was just getting started.

"You don't get to fucking drag me out of there like I'm some damn pet!" she screamed, her voice cracking with fury, every word laced with venom. "You don't fucking own me, Marshall! I'm not one of your possessions!"

I stepped toward her, my fists tight, every muscle in my body screaming for control I didn't have. "You were acting like a fucking showpiece, Leila!" I shot back, my voice echoing off the walls. "Begging for every asshole in that place to look at you. Don't fucking act like you didn't love it."

Her eyes flared, blazing with rage, and before I could react, she grabbed a book from the table and hurled it at me. It slammed into my chest, the impact dull and meaningless. It wasn't the hit—it was the look in her eyes that landed harder. She was daring me, pushing me, begging for me to snap. "You can't fucking stand it, can you?" she spat, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension between us like a knife. "That people were watching me. That maybe, for a minute, the whole world didn't revolve around you."

I slammed my fist into the wall, the brick scraping my knuckles raw, but I didn't care. The pain barely registered through the haze of anger clouding my head. "Stop throwing shit!" I barked, my voice rough, filled with the weight of everything unsaid between us. "You keep pushing me, keep fucking testing me, thinking I'm just gonna let you act like a fool? You think I'm just gonna stand here and take it?"

She let out a bitter, cruel laugh, the sound like ice cutting through the heat of the moment. "You dragged me out of there like I'm one of your fucking groupies. That's what kills you, isn't it? That you can't fucking control me!" Her voice dripped with venom, every word like a slap to the face.

I stepped closer, the air between us thick, heavy, crackling with tension. "This isn't about control," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, a thread of anger running through every word. "You loved it. Every second of it. Showing off for them, getting those looks, feeding off it like you needed it."

Her lips twisted into a sneer, her eyes burning with something darker than just anger. It was something wicked, something cruel. "Yeah? Maybe I liked watching you squirm. Maybe I loved seeing you fucking lose it, knowing that I'm the one who gets under your skin. Maybe I fucking thrive on it."

Her words cut deep, slicing through whatever was left of my restraint. That was it. I grabbed the lamp from the table and hurled it across the room with everything I had. The crash was deafening, the ceramic shattering into a mess of sharp pieces across the floor.

"You think this is a fucking game?" I snarled, stepping closer, my breath coming fast, the heat between us rising to a boiling point. "You love fucking with me, don't you? You get off on pushing me to the edge, seeing how far you can take it before I snap."

She didn't back down. She never fucking did. Instead, she shoved me hard, her hands slamming into my chest with enough force to knock the wind out of me. "You think I'm scared of you?" Her voice was trembling, but there was no fear. Just pure, unfiltered venom. "You think you're the one holding all the cards here? You'd fall apart without me if I decided to leave you, and you fucking know it."

I grabbed her waist, pulling her toward me, slamming her into the wall. The rough brick scraped against her back, but she didn't flinch. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, wild and unblinking, full of defiance. "The only way you're leaving me is in a fucking box," I growled, my voice thick with jealousy, my breath hot against her face. "You're not going anywhere."

The words hit like a hammer, solid and final. I hadn't planned to say it, but I fucking meant it. Every single word. She wasn't walking out of my life. Not now. Not ever.

But she didn't flinch. She didn't back down. Instead, a dark, wicked smile curled on her lips, slow and dangerous. "Hope that box is big enough for two," she whispered, her voice dripping with danger. "Because you wouldn't survive a fucking day without me."

Her words slammed into me like a punch, the truth of them sinking in hard, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. I grabbed her face, pulling her in, my lips crashing against hers. It wasn't a kiss—it was raw, desperate, angry. Her nails dug into my skin, dragging me closer, her breath coming in sharp bursts, hot and wild against my mouth.

I tangled my hands in her hair, yanking her head back as I kissed her harder, deeper, needing to prove something—to her, to myself. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Not for us. The fire between us was always burning too hot, too wild, and no matter how much we tried to tear each other apart, we were always pulled back in. Always.

When I finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged, but her eyes—they were still burning. Burning with that same fire, that same challenge, daring me to push further. "This isn't over," she whispered, her voice shaking with the intensity of everything between us. "It's never fucking over."

I leaned in close, my voice low, a dangerous growl in my throat. "Damn right it's not over. We're never fucking done."

Her eyes stayed locked on mine, the tension between us electric, dangerous, and alive. For a second, the wreckage around us—the shattered glass, the mess of the room—faded into nothing. None of it mattered. All that mattered was us, locked in this endless, chaotic fire that we both fed off.

Because neither of us was ever walking away.