Then, I hear it. A sharp, wet snap. My ex screams.
This man…with the deep green eyes did it. He doesn’t blink as my ex crumples, his arm bending at a grotesque angle. Raphael, surrounded by shadows, beyond the mask, doesn’t flinch. He just watches, detached, as the redhead lunges forward with a delighted snarl. “Fuck yeah!”
And then?—
They don’t just hurt him.They destroy him.
The second I try to bolt, the black man seizes my arm and pulls me to him, my back hitting the solid wall of muscle of his chest. He’s more than a head taller than I am, and I am average.
“Not so fast, Babydoll. You won’t want to miss this,” he says in a deep, velvety voice. Yeah, I guess I am a baby doll compared to him. I’ll call him Cheekbones for now.
My heart stalls in my chest as he cups my chin, forcing my eyes on my ex.
The redhead uses his fists. Swinging, beating, breaking. I should slam my eyes shut, but I’m more fixated on his face, the wild rage in his eyes, and the sadistic grin as he makes a bloody and bruised mess of Joah, fracturing his jaw and nose.
And then…the red plaid guy, Lumberjack, swings the axe. A flash of metal. A wet, meaty thud.My ex’s hand hits the dirt. Blood gushes from his wrist where the very bone sticks out. Unholy, blood-curdling sounds leave his throat. And it takes all my willpower not to retch. The acid splashes in my throat, but I swallow it. He shrieks, his blood a dark stain against the damp leaves.
“Not bad, Seth,” Red croons to Lumberjack. “You might even get lucky tonight.” He winks at him, and I get a glimpse of something more in their eyes. A hunger that goes deeper than violence.
Lumberjack man hums under his breath and twirls his axe. Like he’s enjoying it. “Not so bad yourself, Rory.”
“May I commend you on your redecorating of his face,” Cheekbones croons silkily, still holding me.
“Why, thank you, Jude,” Rory takes an exaggerated bow, careless of the blood splattered on his face and clothes and his cracked and bleeding knuckles.
“Still messy as usual,” Jude says mockingly. “What do you think, Vincent?” he says to the big Tats guy.
I shiver when he looks at me with a daggered gaze
“Why ye asking him?” Rory rolls his eyes, cutting through the tension. “The man communicates exclusively in grunts and rude gestures.”
Tats, aka Vincent, flips him two middle fingers.
And Raphael, the leader among them? Arms straight at his side, he waits, watching. Silent and unshaken. So still, he reminds me of a statue.
Joah is a shuddering, bleeding, whimpering mess on the ground.
“Raphael,” Jude says, gesturing to him, his torso slabbed and surging heat through my back.
Eyes growing wider and wider, I hold my breath and stare at Raphael. The shadows deepen around his eyes, his jaw set, lips pressed into a tight seam.
Then, he slowly steps forward, holding a glinting, silver dagger. He brings it down, one clean thrust, straight to the heart.
My ex shudders, the last breath leaving his lips. Raphael watches him go still. Chills rack me as he tilts his chin, green eyes looking up to the sky. He hisses softly, as if…he’s unleashing something, some beast inside him.
Finally, he turns to me, trapping me in his gaze. “Now,” he murmurs. “What shall we do with this one?”
My body locks up, my nerves twisted so tight, they’re ready to break. “L-Letting me go would be the sensible thing,” I stammer. “I-I won’t say anything. I promise. I haven’t seen your faces.”
I just want to get back to my cottage, my garden, my greenhouse. All the plants depending on me.
Red grins, Rory, advancing to me, not hesitating to cup my chin with his bloody hand. “Oh, Raphael. Come on. It’s my birthday.” He licks his lips, and I nearly shrivel.
Raphael’s gaze drags over me, deciding. My heart hangs upon his word. He doesn’t move a muscle as he assesses me with sharp eyes.
Then, finally, he nods. “Bring her,” he says. “To the cabin.”
And just like that, my heart sinks into a panting mess on the ground.
