This guy is a fucking monster.
I’m going to be doing the world a favor when I cleave him from it.
The drive to slice every bit of skin from his bones drowns me, the world shrinking down into nothing but killing him and making sure every person knows just what kind of monster he is, doing it before he can get his hands on Brigit or anyone else.
Without any thought attached to the motion, my body moves one step forward, only to be immediately stopped by the loud shot that echoes off the walls, sending a shard of blazing heat through my body just above my hip.
I take a stuttered step back, grunting from the impact and instant agony.
This is so much worse than the bullet that grazed me earlier.
Falling to one knee, the impact of hitting the floor makes the pain worse, and I barely keep in the groan bubbling up my throat.
Within a few seconds, the worst pain I can imagine fills my chest as the door to the safe room clicks open.
Fear drowns out all thought, and I stop looking at Steele, my eyes locking on Brigit and shaking my head frantically to get her back inside.
Her frantic gaze meets mine, and only a second later does Ben realize what’s happened.
“Oh,” he chuckles. “Wow, Cormac, look at you! Did you play the hero and finally land the girl? How fucking cute.”
She runs and falls to my side, putting her hand over the wound. It stings like a bitch, but her need to comfort me and do something to protect me warms me enough to ignore the pain from the pressure.
Steele briefly looks back at Skyler before stalking forward with a wicked grin plastered across his sweaty face.
“I’ll assume this means you took care of Aidan for me,” he tilts his head. “It’ll make the clean up a little more of a pain in the ass, but all three of you dying here together seems poetic, doesn’t it?”
As he stalks closer and towers over us, Brigit looks up at me, hiding her fear under the layer of bravery she always wears.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish I could explain everything, but we don’t have time.”
“Oh, my god,” Steele groans in annoyance. “The dramatic goodbyes are going to make me vomit. Let’s just end this now.”
I can see on her face the second before she strikes, the split second where she holds her breath before doing something she’ll hate herself for if it means she can survive.
And if I had just a little bit more clarity of mind, I’d be able to stop her and take care of this asshole myself, but she’s too fast.
I’m too distracted by the immense pain and crimson liquid flooding out of my body onto the floor.
Pulling out a sharp, heavy knife, she drives it immediately into his leg so hard it hits bone with a dull thunk.
His reaction is immediate, shouting in pain and grabbing her by the hair with his free hand, making the knife fall with a loud clang onto the floor.
She screams, trying to free herself from his grip, and the sound of her in such distress destroys any sense of the man still inside of me, bringing out the demon that craves only blood.
Before he can even try to aim his deadly weapon at Brigit, I grab the hand holding it, driving the knife from my fucking shoe into his forearm and dragging down to completely obliterate the muscle holding onto it.
The gun clatters to the floor, followed shortly by Brigit falling onto her knees with a loud cry. Against the pain and dizziness from blood loss, I shove the firearm across the hardwood, getting it as far away from all three of us as possible.
With my state and Steele’s, there’s no guarantee Brigit wouldn’t get caught in a crossfire, and it’s not worth it. Let him and I fucking bleed out on the floor right here, I don’t care, as long as Brigit gets out.
She tries to grab my hand and pull us up from the ground, but I’m feeling too hazy, too heavy, and can barely keep myself upright.
With his other hand, I watch through the fuzziness as Steele reaches for his pocket, whipping out a tiny but deadly sharp blade, aiming to drive it through any part of Brigit he can get.
I shove her to the floor behind me and hold out a hand to stop the trajectory, letting the sharp steel sink into my palm, the pain unbearable enough that I can’t stop the guttural scream that escapes me.
The only thing I can do is roughly push him away, keeping his knife lodged in my hand, watching as he stumbles in a puddle of his own blood, landing on the ground with a splat.
