I check the app on my phone, heart pounding. Her location pops up—she’s at her apartment. Relief crashes over me, though the tension is still tight in my bones.
I mutter a quick thanks to myself for installing that hidden GPS app on her phone days ago.
I slam my foot on the gas, weaving through traffic. Every second feels like hours. I can’t let anything happen to my sweet Opal.
Iwon’tlet anything happen to her.
I barrel up the stairs of her apartment, heart slamming, breaths sharp. The moment I grab the handle of her door—locked. I lean in straining to hear.
Screaming. A man’s voice. My blood boils. I slam my fist into the door. The shouting continues, sharper, more threatening.
“Oh, fuck no,” I growl.
I raise my foot, and, with one forceful kick, the door flies open.
Inside, I see Opal backed into the corner, eyes wide, terrified. The man stands over her, slurring, screaming into her face.
Her eyes flick to me. A silent plea. That’s all it takes.
And I snap.
The world around me turns red as I lunge for him.
I grab him by the back of the shirt, spinning him around. I slam him against the wall. My first punch lands squarely on his jaw, acracksounds at the impact.
Rage pours out of me, its primal and unstoppable. He swings at me, but I’m a storm, moving faster than he could ever anticipate.
I grab his collar, slamming him into the countertop, glass and mugs rattling around us. His hands flail, trying to shove me off.
My teeth grit, jaw tight, as I deliver a series of devastating punches to his midsection. The image of Opal trembling and cornered in her own home fuels my protective rage.
He stumbles backward, and I chase, not giving him a second to recover. He tries to scramble for the door, but I catch him, yanking him by the shirt.
He collapses to the floor, and I pin him down, my hands wrapped around his throat. My voice rips out of me, my chest heaving, “She’s mine!” I roar, every ounce of obsession pouring from me. “MINE!”
“Flynn, stop! You’re going to kill him. Please! I need you here with me!”
Her words cut through the haze of fury. My arms go slack at once, and I stumble off him. My eyes land on her trembling face, wide with fear.
When I step back, my hands still shaking, a heat rises to my cheeks. Fuck. I have terrified her even more.
The scum scrambles to his feet, clutching his ribs—probably broken—and leaves a trail of blood across the apartment floor. I watch him stumble out, disappearing down the hall. My muscles still tremble with pent-up rage.
I take a shaky breath, still staring at the broken door. My hands flex at my sides, the adrenaline slowly calming.
“I’ll fix your door,” I mumble.
I finally turn to her. Tears are falling from her eyes, chest rising and falling violently. Relief and fear spread across her face.
Without thinking, I close the distance, pulling her into my arms, holding her tightly. She sobs into my chest, her tears soaking my shirt.
I bend down and pick her up, cradling her to my chest, and carry her to the couch.
I gently push a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, brushing it away from her trembling face.
“I’m going to make you some tea, okay?”
She nods, still sniffling.
