I lunge across the table. My fist meets his jaw with a sound so sharp it makes someone gasp.
His head snaps sideways. He tries to cover his face, but I rip his hands away and hit him again and again, angrier every time.
I can't fucking stop. I can't stop.
He planted that disgusting image in my head.
Rava being drunk and weak.
Someone's hands on him.
Someone laughing.
Someone doing something he can't fight off.
The Rava I know, treated like some pretty little thing to pass around while he's not even conscious enough to say no. I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him.
I don't give a fuck if they hold me back, if they scream my name, if I get locked the fuck up.
I'm not stopping.
Not when he had the balls to say that out loud.
You'll call me violent. You'll call me crazy.
But I'll be the one who made sure Rava never ends up another fucking victim. I'll be the one who split open the face of a would-be fucking rapist.
Because that's what you fucking are.
That's what you just confessed to being.
A future fucking rapist. But Rava won't be on your list.
"One more word..." I whisper to him. "...and I'll rip your spine out like a fucking zipper."
Enzo tries to stop me, but I shove him off and keep going. He swings back, catches me across the cheek. I laugh, tasting blood, and go in again.
I'm not gonna sit here and feel sorry for a rapist, or any sick fuck who even thinks like one.
You hit me, I hit harder.
I'm not wasting mercy on someone who opens his mouth and lets that kind of filth fall out.
You want to know why I didn't back off? 'Cause people like you don't stop unless someone makes them.
"Say his name again," I spit, slamming him back against the couch.
"I fucking dare you."
"Gio?!" I hear it. The voice.
Rava.
Through the chaos, through the blur of fists and yelling, I see him.
"Are you fucking insane?!" he shouts, grabbing my arm, yanking me back. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Shit. I stare down at the guy under me.
