I continue to pummel him. Destroy him. The fight is now mine and I knock him to the ground.
Logan spits blood, his body broken but his eyes still alive with hatred. "Finish it," he hisses.
I grab him by the throat, pressing. I have to crush his windpipe. End him. Eliminate the threat permanently. It's the only sure way to keep Naomi safe.
The distant thump of helicopter rotors breaks the moment. My enhanced hearing picks them up before they're visible: large transport choppers, accompanied by the rumble of heavy vehicles approaching on the access road. Naomi stirs, thank God, rising to her elbows.
"Do it," Logan rasps, blood bubbling between his lips. "Show her what we really are."
I begin pounding Logan’s face. A strike for every sin he’s committed. Every time he threatened the woman I love. Every time he put his hands on her.
I don’t stop.
The helicopters appear over the ridge, searchlights cutting through the growing darkness. Humvees crash through the dilapidated fence of Camp Titan, their headlights illuminatingthe concrete yard where I hold Logan pinned. Naomi is sitting up now. “Walker, stop?—”
Armed men pour from the vehicles with their weapons trained on us. Their black uniforms bear no distinct markings.
"Stand down! Hands in the air!" The command echoes across the compound.
I maintain my grip on Logan, calculating odds. At least twenty men surround us now, all armed with automatic weapons. Even with my enhancements, those aren't survivable odds.
"Last warning! Release him and stand down!"
My fist is raised overhead. Logan’s face is a bloody mess. One more strike. That’s all it would take. I’m about to bring it down when Matthew Spencer walks forward, raising his hands toward the armed men.
"Hold your fire!" he shouts.
The soldiers hesitate, their weapons still aimed at us. Spencer continues walking calmly toward me, Naomi, and the broken figure of Logan beneath my hands.
My fist still hovers above Logan's ruined face, trembling with the effort it takes to stop the fatal blow. Blood, his and mine, drips from my knuckles onto his cheek.
"Walker. Please. It’s over." Naomi's voice cuts through the red haze of my rage. She's crawling to me now, recovering from the blow Logan struck, her lip still bleeding, but her gaze steady.
"It isn't." My raw voice is barely human. "He hurt you. He threatened to kill you. He has to die."
The truth of those words burns in my chest. Every fiber of my being, everything I was trained to be, everything I was made to be, tells me to end this threat permanently. Logan will never stop. Never. Not as long as there is breath in his body.
"No," Naomi says softly. "You saved me. He lost."
I look down at Logan, his chest rising and falling inshallow, painful breaths. Broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Fractured jaw. But still alive.
"As long as he draws breath, he's a threat. They can't protect you from him," I growl, glaring at Spencer and his team surrounding us. Government agents with government rules. They don't understand what Logan is capable of. And if they kill me after I kill him, then maybe that’s for the best, too.
"No. You were right. I was being naive. I thought the world was a more just place. That laws and rules would make things right. But I was wrong. When Logan captured me, I was afraid. But I hid it from him. I hid it for you.”
“Naomi—” I grit out. She’s breaking my heart. I failed her. She should never fear like that.
“But even though I was afraid, I never felt hopeless. Because of you. I knew the law or a system wasn’t going to save me. You were."
Naomi places a gentle hand on my arm, and something inside me shifts.
I meet her eyes, those beautiful gray-blue depths. They’re not fire. They’re a cool, calm lake. There's no fear there, no doubt, no condemnation for what I am or what I've done. There's only faith. And love.
“I believe in you,” she says. “I love you.”
My breathing slows. My muscles begin to unclench. I lower my fist, and the soldiers around us relax. I slowly rise to my feet, lifting Naomi with me.
"Medic!" Spencer yells, and a team rushes to Logan.
