I move.
I rise just high enough to see.
Autumn is on the bed, unconscious, stripped down to black lace panties and nothing else. A dark bloom of blood soaks the pillow under her head. Her beautiful hair is matted with it.
My vision tunnels. My hands shake so hard the glass rattles.
“He’s mine,” I rasp, voice barely human. “Get her out alive.”
Declan’s eyes meet mine. “I’ve got her.”
Kian and Connor ghost to the side. “Kitchen,” Kian mouths.
“What’s the plan now?” Connor whispers.
I stand.
I peel the jacket off, let it fall.
“Now I fuck this up.”
I stride to the front door and kick it clean off the hinges.
Wood explodes inward.
“Fucking hell, Brady!” Declan hisses behind me, already moving.
“Flynn!” Doyle’s voice.
He crashes into me like a freight train, shoulder driving into my ribs. We stagger. Then fire erupts along my right side, white-hot, wet. I lookdown. A combat knife is buried to the hilt just above my hip, blood already pouring down my jeans.
He grins up at me, teeth pink. “Surprise.”
I wrap my hand around the handle, rip it free. The pain is blinding, but rage is louder.
I roar and drive us both to the floor.
“You touched her?” My fist smashes into his face, once, twice. Cartilage collapses. Blood explodes across the wood in thick, arterial arcs.
He laughs through broken teeth. “I fucked her like she wanted.”
The words detonate inside my skull.
I grab his hair, rear his head back, and slam it down. Once. The crack is wet. Twice. Bone gives. Three times, grey-pink matter spatters out in a fan, chunks sliding across the floorboards like spilled oatmeal.
“You touched her.” Slam. His left eye bursts, jelly and blood oozing down his cheek.
“She—” He coughs a red mist, “—mine.”
I yank my collar down, show him the ink over my heart, her name in black script, fresh scar still raised.
“She was never yours.” I snarl, lifting his ruined head one last time. “She might not even be mine… but she’ll be with me forever while you rot.”
His remaining eye flickers, confused, dying.
I slam his skull down one final time. The back of his head caves in with a wet crunch. Brain matter squelches out in thick grey ropes, mixing with the growing lake of blood.
I lean in close, lips to what’s left of his ear.
