His hands lose strength.
His resistance weakens.
I grab him by the collar and slam the back of his skull into the floor once. Twice. The sound is dull and ugly.
Footsteps pound closer.
“Mercs!” Tank’s voice cuts through, but it barely registers.
I haul Jett halfway up by his shirt and drive my fist into his already broken nose again, feeling it flatten further beneath my knuckles. He wheezes, barely conscious now.
“You don’t get to touch her,” I hiss. “You don’t get to breathe the same air as her.”
Tank’s arms lock around my chest from behind, hauling back with brute force.
“Enough!” he roars in my ear.
I fight him. It’s not a token struggle, not symbolic. I thrash against his grip, my muscles straining, my vision red and pulsing. Tank digs his boots into the tiles and drags me backward inch by inch while I lunge forward, trying to get in one more hit. One more fracture. One more reminder carved into Jett’s body.
“Let. Me. Go!” I snap, nearly dragging Tank with me as I surge forward again.
Jett rolls weakly onto his side, coughing more blood onto the floor.
“You’ll kill him,” Tank grits out, tightening his hold, his forearm crushing across my chest. “And then Effa wakes up to you in cuffs.”
That lands somewhere deep enough to slow me.
But not enough.
I tear one arm free and manage to drive my boot into Jett’s ribs before Tank wrenches me fully back. The kick folds him with a broken wheeze.
Security floods the corridor seconds later, radios crackling, heavy hands grabbing for me. It takes three of them to peel me off Tank and pin my arms behind my back.
Jett lies sprawled on the cold tile, face unrecognizable beneath blood and swelling.
And I feelnothing.
No relief.
No guilt.
Just contempt.
A wet, broken groan bubbles out of him as he stirs, barely conscious. “Did I… really deserve that?” he slurs.
The audacity of it almost makes me laugh.
I wrench forward despite the guards’ grip and drive my boot into his gut hard enough to knock the air from his lungs again.
Security tightens their hold, hauling me back while Luke steps in, voice smooth, trying to de-escalate.
But I don’t take my eyes off Jett.
Because if Effa doesn’t wake up…
That beating was mercy.
Alana stands frozen, horror written all over her face.
