Or they finish you.
Elio’s movements become frantic, then uneven. He tries to speak, something about leverage, about how she’ll never stay with me after this, about how Daddy won’t allow it. The words blur into static.
All I can see is Dallen pressed against the floor. See Elio raping the woman I love and taking what isn’t given freely. If I loosen my grip, he’ll try again. They never stop. Not these bastards. Every one of them needs to be eliminated.
Something shifts. His resistance weakens. His hands slip.
For a second — one dangerous, eternal second — I realize I’m crossing a line I can’t step back from. My hands tighten further.
Chief Byrne’s voice cuts through the haze. “Stephen!”
I don’t release immediately. I wish I could say I do. I wish I could claim morality reasserts itself. It doesn’t. It’s exhaustion. It’s inevitable. It’s the knowledge that the damage is already done.
When I finally pull back, Elio doesn’t.
He lies still beneath me, blood pooling darkly beneath his temple where I've struck his head against the floor. Chief Byrne kneels beside me and checks the bastard's vitals. I meet his eyes, his expression one I will never forget — not horror, not anger.
Calculation.
“He’s dead,” he says quietly.
Dead.
The word lands without drama. Without thunder. Just finality.
Good riddance.
I look back at Dallen. She’s shaking, eyes bright with shock and something far more complicated — fear, yes, but not of Elio.
Of me.
And that’s the moment the rage leaves entirely. Because killing him was instinct, seeing what it does to her is a consequence. Chief Byrne rises slowly. He doesn’t draw a weapon. Doesn’t arrest me. Doesn’t shout. He looks at me as both father and law.
“You understand what you’ve done.”
I do. And I don’t regret it. I’ll never regret removing such scum from the world. That realization should terrify me. Instead, what terrifies me is the possibility that Dallen will walk away — not because of rumors, not because of family legacy — but because she’s seen exactly what loving me means.
What I’m capable of, even right in front of her and those she loves.
I stand up, hands bloodied, breath still ragged, and I understand with chilling clarity that I’ve protected her. And in doing so, I may have destroyed any chance of keeping her.
TWENTY-FOUR
STEPHEN
“You should leavevia the emergency stairs, get out of the building. I’ll take it from here.”
The words from Dallen’s father halt my steps toward her. “I can’t leave. I know what I’ve done, and I don’t regret it. I won’t leave her here.”
“You will if you love her.” The Chief stands, his mouth tight with determination. “Go. I’ll be in contact soon.”
I turn to Dallen, move to reach for her, but she cowers against the wall. I stop, hate that I’ve done this to her. That I’ve placed her in a position that’s caused her so much trauma. A trauma no one ever heals from. Not really.
The sight of her shrinking from me guts me worse than any blade ever could. I’ve killed for her, would kill again without hesitation, and yet I’m the one she recoils from. What does that make me? Savior or monster?
“Dallen…”
“Go,” I hear her whisper. “Just go.”
