"She's not your anything." Romeo's eyes drop to where Thad is still holding my arm, and I see something dark and terrible move across his face. "You're hurting her."
“This is none of your business?—”
Romeo moves so fast I barely see it, his fist connecting with Thad's face with a sickening crunch that makes my stomach turn over. Thad staggers backward, finally releasing my arm, and I watch blood start pouring from his nose. His hands come up to his face in shock and pain.
"Romeo, stop—" I try to cut in, but he's not listening. He's already moving forward again, grabbing Thad by the front of his expensive suit and slamming him against the wall hard enough to make the pictures rattle.
"You put your hands on her." Romeo's voice is low and dangerous, and I can see the rage in every line of his body. "You hurt her. You threatened her."
"I didn't—" Thad is trying to speak through the blood, trying to defend himself, but Romeo hits him again, this time in the ribs, and I hear something crack. Thad cries out in pain.
"Romeo, please—" I'm moving toward them now, trying to pull Romeo away, but the other man puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me back.
“Don’t get in the way,” he says, his voice flat, and he pushes me behind him. I can’t stop staring at Romeo as he slams his fist into Thad’s face and ribs again and again. This is what Romeo is—not just the brilliant student who challenges me intellectually, not just the obsessive lover who can't stay away, but this, too. Violence and danger, and the willingness to hurt anyone who threatens what's his.
"Romeo." The other man’s voice is calm but firm. "That's enough. You're going to kill him."
Romeo hits Thad one more time, and I hear another crack. Thad makes a sound that's somewhere between a sob and a scream. Then Romeo steps back, breathing hard, his knuckles bloody and his eyes still dark with rage.
Thad slides down the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the paint, and curls into himself on the floor. His face is a mess—nose clearly broken, one eye already swelling shut, blood covering his expensive shirt and tie. He's making small, pained sounds with each breath, and I realize with a distant kind of horror that Romeo must have broken his ribs, that he possibly did serious damage.
"If you ever touch her again," Romeo says, his voice deadly calm now, "if you ever threaten her, if you ever even look at her wrong, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
Thad nods, or tries to, the movement making him gasp in pain.
"Get out." Romeo is looking at him with such contempt that I almost feel sorry for Thad—almost feel bad for the man who was just threatening to destroy my family. "Get out of here and don't come back."
The other man moves forward and helps Thad to his feet, supporting him as he stumbles toward the door. Thad looks at me once, and there's something in his eyes—hatred and humiliation and a promise of retribution—that makes my blood run cold.
"You're going to regret this," he says, the words coming out thick and slurred through his broken nose. "Both of you. You're going to regret this for the rest of your lives."
Then he's gone, Luca guiding him out into the hallway, and I'm left alone with Romeo. The dorm suddenly feels too small, too close, full of violence and blood and the smell of fear and rage.
Romeo turns to look at me, and I can see him trying to control himself, trying to push down the violence that's still simmering just beneath the surface. His hands are shaking, his knuckles split and bleeding, and there's blood on his shirt—Thad's blood, I realize with a sick feeling in my stomach.
"Are you okay?" His voice is rough and strained. "Did he hurt you?"
I look down at my arm. I can feel the marks are already starting to darken into bruises. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine." He's moving toward me now, his hands reaching for my arm. I let him take it, as he examines the bruises with a gentleness that's completely at odds with the violence I just witnessed. "He hurt you. He put his hands on you."
"You broke his nose." I'm not sure why I say it. I’m not sure if it's an accusation, or an observation, or something else entirely.
"I broke more than his nose." Romeo's fingers are tracing the bruises on my arm with a light touch. "I broke his ribs."
"You could have killed him."
"I wanted to." He looks up at me, and there's no apology in his eyes, no regret. "I wanted to kill him for touching you. For threatening you. For making you afraid." His hands move frommy arm to my face, cupping my cheeks with a tenderness that makes my throat tight. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I'm sorry I let him hurt you."
"How did you know to come back?"
“I couldn’t—” He pauses. “I know you didn’t want me to. But I just felt—” He breaks off, because he knows there’s no real excuse. But at the moment, I can’t bring myself to care.
If he hadn’t come back, I don’t know what would have happened. I’m glad he’s here, and right now, I just let myself feel that.
Romeo will always be there, will always show up when I need him, will always protect me even when I don't ask him to. Right now, that feels like a relief.
"He knows about us," I whisper. "He's been having me watched. He knows everything."
