Shout lurches forward, coughing. While he wheezes, Kellin twists his left arm behind his back higher than any limb should go.
Thepopof a dislocating joint bounces off the walls. Shout cries out and drops to the concrete landing.
Chapter 19
Kellin
This shit-fuck rolls on the ground, heaving for breath, and I kick him in the stomach for good measure—twice—before focusing on Maeve.
Maeve…
Her face is flushed in the soft stairwell lighting, but not in the way I like. A suspiciously hand-shaped mark is forming on her cheek, and her clothes sit mussed and rumpled on her body. Apart from that, she appears unscathed. But if I hadn’t received the alert when I did…
My fingers flex as fury unlike anything I’ve ever experienced blazes through me. I want to shred this man into tiny pieces and feed them to the sharks, but I’ll settle for squeezing the life out of the bastard and watching the light die in his eyes.
Maeve must read my intentions, because she shakes her head. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
She shivers as she inspects my face, and I realize my rage is scaring her. Digging deep, I summon enough control to at least temporarily ignore my murderous impulses.
I reach out to Maeve but stop before touching her. “Are you okay?”
With one hand fisted against her stomach, she nods.
“I need to hear you say it, Maeve.”
She exhales, her shoulders losing some of their tension. “I’m okay.”
Behind me, the cocksucker on the floor coughs. I hoist him back into a sitting position with my foot and crouch down to his level. “You so much as glance at her again, and a dislocated shoulder will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?”
He heaves, his eyes red and his face pale from the pain, but doesn’t answer.
Good. I wanted an excuse.
I straighten and kick him again, lower and closer to the groin. “You understand, you piece of shit?”
He squeaks out a grunt while scrambling to put distance between us. The predator in me enjoys watching him behave like prey.
“Yeah, yeah.” He chokes on spit as he gropes for the stair railing. “Got it.” Pulling himself up, he limps his way down the steps to the next landing. At the exit door, he peers back up at me with a scowl. “Fuck you.”
I glare him down, savoring the way he pales when I smile.
We don’t need to exchange any more words. He won’t forget my face.
Once the door shuts, I check on Maeve. She’s bent over, picking up a bottle off the floor.
Pepper spray.
That explains the tangy, acrid capsicum scent lingering in the air.
She attempts to fake a smile. “Whole lot of good this stuff did me.”
I’d explain that no one her size would stand a chance after that filthy pig blindsided them, but I doubt my claim would soothe her.
Hearing “it’s inevitable” isn’t especially reassuring.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your suite.”
She balks. “My suite? How did you..?”
