“Leilani!” I yell, breaking into a sprint.
I jump over the dead bodies littering the floor, gun raised, but I can’t get a bead on him.
She’s in between us.
A human shield.
I can’t pull the trigger without risking her.
“Leilani!”
She flinches. Tears stain her face, but her eyes snap to mine and that blank look clears. Her left hand moves down her thigh and pulls the knife free.
She winds her elbow back, driving the knife between Anton’s ribs.
“Oh, fuck—” Ryder snaps behind me.
We both come to a screeching halt ten feet from them as the silver blade comes up red.
Anton jerks, grunting. “Leilani... sweetheart, you’re confused, stop, petal, it’s me, it’s—”
She stabs him again, both hands grasping the handle, a raw scream tearing out of her.
He shoves her off, but she’s not done. She lunges at him, his back hitting the ground as Leilani straddles his legs.
The knife comes back down with awhoosh.
Everyone stops. The absence of pinging bullets rings in my ears, interrupted by Leilani’s raw screams and the wet sound of her knife plunging into Anton’s flesh.
Again.
And again.
And again.
My chest constricts. She’s in a frenzy, stabbing the man with so much ferocity, so much raw anger and pain it gutsme.
I’m about to move when Ryder’s fingers close around my bicep. “Don’t. Let her have this. She’s safe.”
I stare at her, shaking, sobbing, stabbing with all the trauma and grief he carved into her. Every thrust of the knife is a release. Another ounce of the pain he put her through dissolving.
Every man in the room stares, watching my violent, bloodied girl take back control of her life.
I’m so fucking proud there’s no room in my heart for more.
“I hate you! I hate you!” she screams, driving the blade into his heart one last time.
She rears back, chest heaving, hands falling to her sides and I bolt to her, sliding to my knees.
“Leilani.” I reach my fingers around her slick, shaking hand. “Baby, look at me. It’s me. It’s over. He’s gone.”
She blinks up at me, blood streaking her face, neck, chest. “Koby...” She collapses into me, shaking, crying, red fingers staining my shirt. “I didn’t... He—”
“I know.” I kiss her temple, wrapping both arms around her, and pull her into my chest. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you again.”
Her sobs turn soundless, just ragged breaths, tremors, and fragments of words that break against my throat.
“Breathe,” I whisper, and cradle her tighter, fisting the back of her dress as I kiss her head over and over again. “Breathe, baby. It’s over. He’s gone, hellcat. I’ve got you.”
