My chest cracks open, bleeding from a wound that’s decades deep.
I know what it’s like to be small and helpless, watching violence unfold and praying you stay invisible. Know what it feels like to hold your breath so long your lungs burn, to make yourself as small as possible, to pray that this time—this time—it won’t be your turn.
And I know Isabel too. Know what it costs to put yourself between a monster and someone you love. Know the particular kind of courage it takes to stand up when you know you’re going to lose.
The rage that floods through me is cold. Controlled. The kind of anger that doesn’t burn hot and fast—it freezes everything down to a single, crystal-clear purpose.
He’s never going to touch either of them again.
“Hey, fuck head.”
He spins. His eyes go wide when he sees me—all six-four of me filling the hallway.
“Who the fuck?—”
I don’t let him finish.
ISABEL
The blows stop.
There’s a crash. A grunt. Something heavy hits the wall.
I lift my head, vision blurry, and see?—
A man. He’s huge. Bigger than my stepfather, Jared. Bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen. He has wild red hair and a beard like some kind of Game of Thrones character, with shoulders broad enough to block out the hallway light.
He pins Jared against the wall by his throat, lifting him until his feet kick uselessly.
Jared’s face is turning purple. His eyes bulge. His hands claw uselessly at the stranger’s grip.
Good.
The thought should horrify me. It doesn’t. I watch him struggle and I feel nothing but cold, vicious satisfaction. After everythinghe’s done—to me, to Lily, to our mother before she died—he deserves every second of this.
I’ve never seen our hero before in my life. But I think I might marry him.
“Get your sister.” The man tells me, his voice calm. Terrifyingly so. “I own the black sedan down the street. Keys are in it. Go and take her there.”
I can’t move.
“Now.”
The command cuts through my shock. I scramble up, everything screaming in protest, and stumble to the closet.
“Lily. Baby. We have to go.”
She launches into my arms. I hold her despite the fire in my shoulder, the blood on my face.
“Don’t look,” I tell her, pressing her face to my neck. “Eyes closed. Hold on.”
I carry her past the stranger and my stepfather —past the choking sounds I can’t bring myself to care about. Down the stairs. Through the living room. Out the front door.
The night air hits me like salvation.
The sedan is where he’s said. I get Lily into the backseat, climb in beside her, holding her while she sobs.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “We’re safe now.”
