We peel off with a shriek of tires, and I power through the first red light like it’s not even there.
Albert mutters, “Left in two blocks,” and I gun it again. Every second feels like it’s suffocating me. My head is buzzing, fury and fear building under my skin like pressure behind a dam. Elliot.That sick bastard. I swear to God, if he has hurt her, I’m going down for murder.
I break almost every traffic law known to man—speed limits, red lights, even a one-way—until finally, the brick façade of Millie’s building comes into view. My chest is tight, lungs burning from the shallow breaths I’ve been taking the entire ride.
“I’m going in. Wait here,” I bark, shoving the gear into park and launching myself out before the car fully stops.
A couple exits the building as I barrel up. I grab the door before it closes and charge up the staircase four floors. By the second, my legs are screaming. By the third, my heart’s a drumbeat in my ears. By the fourth, I’m barely breathing.
But I don’t stop.
Her door’s ahead—Unit 4C.
I don’t knock. I pound. “Violet!”
There’s no answer, just a deathly silence.
My loudfuckechoes in the stairwell as I press my palms into my scalp, trying to formulate a plan. I step back, scanning, then spot the fire extinguisher bolted to the hallway wall. Adrenaline is pumping through me so fast I easily rip it free, heaving it forward and slamming it into the door so hard the wood cracks. Again and again, I keep smashing into it until the door splinters with a sharp crack.
My arm reaches through to click open the lock. Then I burst through—and freeze.
Elliot is dragging her limp body through the hallway towards the bedroom. When he sees me, he drops her like she’s on fire.
Violet crumples to the floor, barely conscious. Her eyes are glazed, and her blouse is half-untucked. My blood turns cold.
Elliot tries to bolt.
But I’m faster.
I slam him back into the wall so hard paintings and framed photos topple to the floor. My fist connects with his face with a satisfying crack, smashing into him again and again until blood sprays across the white paint.
“What the hell did you do to her, you sick fuck?” I roar, grabbing his collar and smashing him into the wall.
He gasps for air, blood drooling at the corner of his mouth.
When he doesn’t answer, I drive my fist into his stomach. He doubles over with a wheeze, coughing. A wet stain leaks out from his crotch, streaming down the inside of his pants. Pathetic bastard must have pissed himself.
“I swear to god, Elliot, if you don’t start talking now, I’m going to slice off your minuscule cock with a carving knife.”
“We drank tequila!” he chokes out on a gasp. “That’s all, I swear!”
“I don’t fucking believe you. Why is she on the floor?” My hand curls around his throat, squeezing until his eyes roll back. His arms wave frantically in a silent plea to stop. I release the pressure just slightly to allow him to talk.
“We played a drinking game. She lost,” he croaks. “Nothing more.”
My fingers grip his throat, harder this time. “Do you know what I think, Elliot?” I snarl, teeth bared and clenched tight, my eyes popping with anger. “I think I interrupted your sordid little plan to get her drunk and drag her to the bedroom.” All he can do is gurgle as I cut off his air supply. “So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.” I’m so far gone with rage, I keep squeezing and squeezing until I feel the fight draining from his body.
Violet makes a small sound—a broken whisper. “...Chase?”
I drop him like dead weight and rush to her side, kneeling, cradling her head gently. She’s pale, eyes struggling to focus. I can smell tequila in her hair, her clothes, fucking everywhere.
Behind me, I hear the rustle of movement—Elliot’s footsteps, stumbling for the door. I make to go, but Violet clasps her fingers around mine, gently tugging me back.
“Don’t leave me.”
I freeze.
“I won’t leave you, Violet.” I gather her close, cradling her in my lap like something fragile, something sacred. My heart’s a wild, erratic thud, adrenaline still screaming through me.
