“Shut thefuckup!” he bellows. “I’m not talking to you yet, Yas. We’ll have our reunion soon enough. Right now, I’m having a conversation with your blind bitch friend.”
I tighten my grip on Excalibur. The aluminum feels pathetically inadequate against whatever Brandon’s got planned, but it’s all I have.
“You think you’re so crafty,” he purrs. “Hit me with that lamp and ran off like a couple of scared little girls. Left me bleeding on the floor ‘til the cops showed up. Do you haveanyidea what county lockup is like for someone with domestic charges?”
“Cry me a river,” I snap. “Maybe try not assaulting women if you don’t want to face consequences.”
Wrong thing to say.
His hand closes around my throat and sets to work on ridding me of all my oxygen. He shoves me backward and my spine connects with the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you,” he whispers against my ear.
His fist connects with my temple before I can even raise Excalibur to defend myself.
I crumple against the wall, sliding down until my ass hits the floor. My world is reduced to fizzing static and hellish ringing and the distant sound of my own pulse thundering in my ears.My baby kicks frantically, sensing my distress or sharing it—I can’t tell anymore.
As I lay in a wounded puddle on the floor, Brandon’s boots move away from me.
“Now thatthat’shandled,” he says, dripping with sick satisfaction, “let’s get everybody else settled in nice and cozy.”
Mom screams as he grabs her. I hear scuffling, the scrape of a chair, the rip of what sounds like duct tape being torn from a roll. “Please,” she begs, “please, I’m?—”
“Shut up, Grandma.”
Her screams cut off as he plasters tape over her mouth.
Sage is next. I hear him scrambling, growling, “Get your hands off me, you piece of?—”
Then there’s the crash of his wheelchair tipping. An ugly thud as his body hits the hardwood. Sage grunts in pain, and I hear the useless scrabble of his hands against the floor, trying to drag himself somewhere, anywhere.
“Fucking cripple,” Brandon sneers. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I try to push myself up, but my head is still swimming from the blow and motion only makes it worse. Everything veers sickeningly. By the time my sense of balance is starting to settle back down, Brandon’s boots are stomping back across the room.
Toward Yasmin.
“Hey, baby,” he croons. “God, it’s good to see you.”
“No, no, no!” Her voice pitches high with terror. I hear her scrambling backward, her hands slipping in what must be Zeke’s blood. “Stay away from me, Brandon, I swear to God!”
“You thought you could justleaveme?” He cackles. “Thought you could spread your lies, turn everyone against me, get melocked up?”
“Leave her alone!” I scream as loud as I can, though it leaves my bruised throat as scarcely more than a whisper. “Brandon! I’m the one who hit you! Take it out on me!”
He doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve spoken.
I struggle to my feet, re-grip Excalibur, and pray that there’s still enough magic left in this walking stick to save us. Then I lunge forward and swing.
It arcs through the air, fueled by every ounce of strength I can muster, driven by the sound of Brandon’s voice and my unbridled fury. The cane connects with something solid—his shoulder, maybe his back—and the impact shudders up through my wrists.
Brandon roars. Not a scream of pain but a bellow of surprise and outrage, like a bull that’s been stung by something way too small to matter. I hear Yasmin scramble away from him, her breath hitching with sobs.
“You fuckingbitch!” He wheels on me.
I back up fast, keeping Excalibur raised between us like a sword. “You want to hurt people?” I say. “You go through me first.”
I mean it. Every word. Even though my hands are trembling so badly the cane quivers against nothing.
