The second those words left the guy's mouth, something inside Ace shattered.
It wasn't just what he said. It was what it meant.
That she was some kind of joke. That Max was just playing with her. That her tattoos, her passion, her feelings were all just some meaningless side quest for a girl like Max.
She saw red.
Ace lunged.
Her fist connected with his jaw so hard, her knuckles exploded with pain.
The guy stumbled back, eyes wide with shock, but Ace wasn't done.
Not even close.
"You think I'm a joke?" she snarled, shoving him against the wall. "You think I don't know what people say? That I'm some messed-up, wannabe tattoo artist with nothing to show for it? That I'm just some dumb lesbian following Max around like a lost puppy?"
He barely had time to answer before she hit him again.
Someone shouted her name, but she didn't care.
"You don't know shit about me," she growled, slamming him back. "You don't know what it's like to want something so bad it eats you alive. You don't know what it's like to feel like you have to prove you deserve to exist every damn day—"