“Hayden. Find her. I’ll handle this piece of shit.”
Breathing heavily through my nostrils, jaw clenched, I weigh up my options. As much as I want to slit his throat. Faith is my priority. I shove past Nigel with a roar, taking the stairs two at a time, heart hammering in my ears.
“Faith!” I shout again, yanking open her bedroom door.
My blood runs cold.
“Faith.”
Her name barely escapes my lips.
She’s slumped on the bed, her bra twisted, leggings halfway down her hips. Her arms lie limp, wrists bound with rope. Her eyes are half lidded, lips parted, skin pale. Her knickers—fuck—her knickers are still on, but tears blur my vision, wondering what that sick bastard’s done to my baby girl.
A strangled sound tears from my throat as I rush to her. “Faith? Sunshine, talk to me.”
She groans faintly, pupils barely reacting.
“KANE!” I bellow.
He’s already at the top of the stairs, dragging Nigel with him.
I lay Faith back down gently and charge for the landing. Nigel sneers at me like this is a fucking game.
“You sick bastard!” I slam my fist into his face, snapping his head back against the wall with a sickening crunch. “What the fuck did you give her?” I growl, grabbing his shirt and slamming him again. “What did you give her?!”
“Nothing,” he gurgles, blood on his teeth. “She was like that when I found her. Girl’s her mother’s daughter—likes a drink.”
Another punch. His nose cracks. Blood pours. I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
“She’s not some fucking drunk.” I roar. “You touched her. I hope it was worth dying for.”
I pin him against the bannister, my forearm at his throat, teeth gritted. Blood pounding in my skull, the white-hot rage tunnelling my vision.
I flick the switchblade in my hand, ready to slice his throat.
A piercing scream cuts through my rage.
“What are you doing?” Faith’s mother shouts, dropping a bag of shopping at the bottom of the stairs, bottles clinking as its contents roll out.
I dig the knife under his chin. “I’m about to kill your daughter’s rapist. You’re just in time for the show.”
“Hayden, stop!” Kane shouts, grabbing my arm.
“She’s half-naked, drugged, and tied to a fucking bed, Kane?—”
Her mother, Jean, runs into the bedroom with a gasp, covering her mouth as if she’s about to vomit.
“Fuck.” Kane’s fists clench, rage burning in his eyes. He knows all too well what I’m feeling. “I know you need to do this,” he says. “But don’t. Don’t give him that. She needs you now more than ever. Don’t throw your life away. Don’t make her lose you, too.”
I’m breathing like a caged animal, every part of me still screaming to finish him. I’m called Wrath for a reason. Act first, think later. It’s my rash decisions that got her brother locked up. This time I need to think.
Kane’s right.
Faith needs me. She has no one.
I shove Nigel to the floor, panting, chest heaving. Kane kicks him hard in the ribs for good measure.
Jean takes one look at Faith, Nigel on the floor, me covered in sweat and rage, and screams. “I’m calling the police!”
