The empty living room before me is a run-down blur, my gaze locked on the open door just beyond it. Bracing myself for any scenario, I cross the living room. The edge of a mattress comes into view as I step inside the bedroom, and blood rushes to my ears.
Eva.
She lies limply on the mattress. Shirt ripped, curls matted with sweat and tangled around her arms. The only obvious sign of life is the faint rise and fall of her chest. A burning sensation grips me, closes my lungs, and I carefully move closer.
“Eva.” Her name scalds my throat because she doesn’t look like Eva. Cheek resting on the mattress, gaze sightlessly locked on the wall opposite her. Standing in front of her, I kneel so we’re eye level.
She doesn’t blink.
“Eva...” I reach up, stroke her hair. My hands shake with rage, torment, and I try to steady them for her sake.
Her slow blink crushes my chest. Finally, she drags her gaze to mine. “You’re here.” Her voice is as hollow as her eyes.
My fingers trail her pale cheek. “I’m here,” I say coarsely. “I’m always going to be here.”
She stares at me, and I check over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone before scanning her body in search of injuries. My jaw tightens hard enough to snap teeth when I notice her hands tied behind her back. Forcing my movements to appear calm, I gently work the rope until her arms fall free.
Her gaze, blank and lost, never leaves mine.
My thoughts darken, conjuring images of what that piece of shit could have done to steal her light so quickly. I’ve never known what it feels like to want to kill someone, but right now, the urge sweeps through me so violently black spots appear in front of me.
My words feel like sandpaper against my throat. “Are you hurt?”
She blinks, slowly shakes her head.
“I’m going to pick you up now, all right?”
“He’ll be back.” Her ghostlike voice sends a shiver up my spine. “He always comes back.”
Venom eats at my chest, and I carefully tuck my arms beneath her, cradle her body toward me. “Yeah, well. So do I.” She leans into me, her head rests against my chest, and her eyes fall shut. “And so do you,” I whisper against her hair.
I clutch her tightly as I stand. It’s not until I’m upright that I feel it—sticky, wet, beneath my fingers. Turning her slightly, I lift my hand to reveal the back of her upper arm, where her shirt is torn. Blood is smeared across her skin, almost concealing the jagged cuts beneath. My veins boil, breaths uneven, as serrated letters take shape.
S-O-L-D.
The floor creaks, a shadow stretches across the carpet. Something violent thunders within me, and I slowly look up. Paul stands in the doorway. Behind him, the apartment door across the living room idles open. Gone is the forced smile he wore at the anniversary party. He stares at Eva, his face flushed with displeasure, cheap button-up stuck to his skin with sweat. He’s average-sized but soft, and a lot smaller than me. My gaze lingers on the gruesome scar knotted on the side of his neck, angry white lines sewn into patches of red skin. A silver glint pulls my attention down to his hand.
His knuckles whiten around a kitchen knife already marked with red, and my grip fastens around Eva—her eyes still closed, breath slow and calm, the opposite of mine.
Tension locks my muscles tight. “I’d think twice before coming any closer,” I warn quietly.
Lips curl with disdain as he examines the way I’m holding her. “You’re really living up to the protective big brother role, aren’t you?” Sarcasm drips from the words.
His eyes, fixed on Eva, are deadly. He doesn’t want to scare her. He wants to kill her.
I take a steady step back, hoping to set her safely on the bed to free my arms, but there’s no time. Paul charges toward us—towardEva. My pulse roars in my ears. He pulls his arm back, bracing the knife. I swing around half a second before the blade pierces my back. My ears ring, a wave of dizziness rushes through me. My jaw clamps shut as a burst of adrenaline mixes with pain, and I throw my elbow backward.
I hear acrunch, a curse.
Eva’s eyes flutter open, her breath quickens.
I turn around and kick the fallen weapon out of reach. He’s adjusting his nose when I slam my head into his. My vision temporarily clouds, but I’m far larger than he is. He stumbles backward, falls to his knees.
Eva watches him, swallows, and clutches my shirt. “He’s—he’s here—”
Wincing, I set her carefully on the mattress. “Eva,” I pant. “Look at me.”
She does.
