That’s my hellcat. Not a tremor in her voice, just fire, pure and steady.
“Ah, a victim on a little vengeance tour,” Bram says, leaning his bulk against the doorframe, blocking the only exit. The frame groans under his weight. “How poetic.”
“I’m not a victim,” she replies, voice cold enough to frost over steel. “I’m justice.”
His laugh is loud, hollow. He steps inside and flinches just enough to tell she probably showed him that fucking knife, but that grin stays plastered on his face.
“Sweetheart, no one touches Sterling,” he says, stepping closer. “Not on my watch, and I think it’s time you learned what happens when someone tries.”
He lunges, but I’m already moving, my hand closing around the back of his coat, yanking him off his feet before he can touch her. His boots scrape against the concrete as he stumbles, trying to find balance, but I slam him into the wall hard enough for the metal beside us to rattle.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tamsin’s voice cuts through, furious. She’s holding that little knife as if it’s enough to take down a man his size.
“Saving your ass, hellcat,” I growl, not taking my eyesoff him.
Bram recovers fast. His fist arcs toward my head, and I duck just in time, but the second one lands, cracking against my jaw and flooding my mouth with blood.
I drive my elbow into his ribs, hard enough to knock the wind out of him; he grunts, staggered, but not enough to stay down. His next swing is wide, but I twist low. I slam my fist into his gut then snap a hook to his jaw. He stumbles back a step.
He’s strong, but so am I, and unlike him, I’ve got something important to protect: her.
He moves forward, shoulder smashing into my ribs and pain rips down my side as we crash into a rusted rack, tools spilling and clanging to the floor. He tries to pin me, fists hammering, rage turning him sloppy. I take advantage and snake my arms around his throat.
He jerks, snarls, thrashes in my grip, but I keep it locked, forearm crushing his windpipe. His fucking elbow drives into my ribs. White-hot pain flares. I grit through it, lift him off his feet, and slam us both to the ground. I land on top, straddling him, my fists pounding until bone cracks under my knuckles.
My chest heaves, my busted lip throbs, and my hands shake with adrenaline, but I’ve still got enough control to end this. I notice a crowbar within reach, I grab it. He sees it too, his eyes go wide, breath hitching. “No—wait—”
The fuck I will.
I swing.
The crowbar meets bone with a sickening crack. Once. Twice. The sound vibrates up my arm, and his head snaps back then slumps forward. His body folding as the fight drains out of him, he gives another breath, and then nothing.
I straighten slowly, shoulders burning, breath ragged, sweat soaking into my shirt until the fabric clings to my skin. The crowbar slips from my hand and clatters onto the concrete beside what’s left of Bram.
He’s not the first man I’ve killed, but he is the first I killed for her.
That makes it holy.
Tamsin stands in the corner, chest heaving, eyes locked on me as if nothing else exists.
“Wow,” she says, almost laughing. “That was a little too much, don’t you think?”
She moves through the mess with unhurried steps, sauntering to a box and pulling out a cloth.
“You cut balls,” I remind her.
The blood from my gloves smears into the fabric as I wipe them. She steps in, close enough that her heat seeps into me, and wraps her fingers around my hand, tugging me toward the next room.
“Tamsin,” I whisper, rough, dangerous, trying to control the edge.
She stops and I watch her hands go to my belt. I freeze, every muscle locks tight, breath catching in my throat. She’s insane and I’m hard enough to ache.
I catch her wrists, spin her, and pin her against the wall—right beside a cracked, gothic-framed mirror that rattles from the impact. “You’re horny because I killed a man?” I murmur against her ear, mask brushing her skin and blood still clings to the fabric between us.
She nods once. “You protected me.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth as I press my covered lips to her neck, shoving her harder against the wall. She grinds her ass into me. The sensation like a challenge I can feel in my bones. My hand slides up, fingers curling around her throat, squeezing.
