The shift.
That one fucking sentence.
I falter, not in movement, but inside. The edge inside me turns jagged.
The next hit lands hard. My ribs scream. I stumble back. He’s grinning now, the bastard.
“She cry when you’re inside her? Or do you think about how we’ll take her back?”
Snap.
That’s the sound of a rib breaking.
He drives a knee into my gut, and I drop to one knee, coughing blood onto the sand. The world sways.
Cillian crouches low, grabbing my chin. “You want her that badly, Italian? Then crawl to her.” Then he headbutts me.
Crack.
My nose shatters. Blood gushes. My vision whites out at the edges.
Then something inside me goes quiet.
Not soft. Not scared. Cold.
Like the fire inside me was always meant to freeze before it burns.
I spit a mouthful of blood at his feet.
“She’s not my family. I might have to see if her pussy is really worth this fight.”
This brings out the rage into me to the point I don’t see anything but red and blood. No one fucking touches my girl, never.
“You’re talking an awful lot for someone about to fucking lose.”
My voice is low, feral, barely mine. My fists are coated in blood, and I can’t tell if it’s his or mine anymore. Probably both.
Cillian Reilly sways on the balls of his feet, split lip curled into a crooked grin. “You’ll lose everything for her, Messina. That’s the fucking joke.”
There’s no strategy. No clean footwork. Just violence.
I lunge, shoulder-first, slamming him into the cage with a metal-on-bone thud. The crowd roars, but all I hear is theringing. My lungs are lava. My heartbeat is a fucking war drum.
But I don't stop.
He tries to duck, but I catch him with a right hook, bone against cheekbone, and feel the give of cartilage. He staggers. I follow. Fists. Elbows. My knee to his ribs until I hear somethingcrack.
“Say her name again,” I growl.
He spits blood in my face.
That’s it.
I slam him down onto the mat andlose it. Not a fight. A goddamnunleashing. My fists are hammers. His face, the anvil. Every blow is rage I’ve swallowed for months. Every strike is for Aoife, for the roof, the jump, for the knife, for the poison, for every breath she begged not to take.
“You think this is about a girl?” My voice tears through the air like a blade. “This is abouteverything.Every fucking thing your family stole. Everything they burned. Everything they planned.”
He tries to guard his face. Too late.
