Marek reacted instinctively to her head getting him in the chest, which was to bring his elbow down as hard as he could into the crook between her shoulder and neck. He tasted blood, felt pain, but that just fueled his anger. He had already decided he was done talking to her, done responding by journal after she'd left that wimpy little scribbled out note. Even if the blows to his chest hadn't made his breathing painfully labored, he wouldn't have had a single word to say to her.
He managed to duck her punch and moved in, head low, both fists swinging, aiming to force her backward even if the blows never connected, until he could shove her hard into the wall. He most certainly did not want her dead, but he very much wanted to hear the crack of her skull hitting the wall, which was something he wasn't sure he could say that he'd ever wished before. She had well and truly riled him up this time, and his anger was just as much from hurt as hers was, albeit a different kind.