A deadly hush fell over the two of them, and Hyacinth just had time to wish with everything inside her she’d remained in her room with her grandmother before a ferocious grin split the second man’s lips, wide and ghastly, and he lunged.
The other man’s arm shot forward so quickly Hyacinth didn’t realize he’d struck until she heard a sickening crunch. The first man’s head snapped to the side, and he staggered backwards. He stumbled a few steps before he righted himself, and when he did…
Oh, dear God.
Hyacinth pressed her hand against her mouth until her teeth cut into the inside of her bottom lip. His face was covered in blood. It gushed in a flood of red from his nose, spattering his white shirtfront. He lifted his forearm to his face to staunch the flow. When he pulled it away a few moments later, his sleeve was streaked with gore.
“End it here, brother.” The first man spoke calmly, for all the world as if he hadn’t just broken the other man’s nose. He was facing away from Hyacinth now, and she could see his hard muscles rippling and stretching beneath his linen shirt. The rigid line of his shoulders had loosened, and he appeared relaxed, as if…
As if he were enjoying himself.
Her stomach lurched, and she lowered her hand from her mouth to press it there, afraid she’d be sick.
“End it?” The other man spat a mouthful of blood onto the dirt at his feet. He raised his head to face his opponent, and laughed.
Laughed.
Blood was dripping off his chin, and he was laughing. “Oh, no. We’ve just begun.”
He raised his fists and lunged again. This time he managed to land a blow to the other man’s face, near his eye, and then a second brutal blow to the man’s ribs, which sent him reeling backwards.
Hyacinth sucked in a sharp breath, her knees shaking with dread. Surely, that would be the end of it? No man could withstand blows like that and remain on his feet—
Before she could finish that thought, the first man regained his balance with a few agile steps, and with one graceful leap, he closed the distance between himself and his opponent, and landed two sharp blows to the other man’s stomach.
His opponent doubled over with a pained grunt, and then he retched, and was sick all over his boots.
The first man was holding his arm tight against his side, but otherwise he showed no sign he was hurt. “Enough?” His voice was tight and strained this time, every hint of casual politeness gone. His shirt was transparent with sweat, and his chest heaving.
The other man was struggling to crawl to his knees. The fight was over, but to Hyacinth’s horror, instead of surrendering, a vile string of curses fell from the downed man’s lips, and he lashed out with one leg and struck a blow to the back of his rival’s knees.
This time the taller man did crash to the ground, but he was up again in a flash, and when he struck again, it was clear he intended to end the fight once and for all. This time, he showed the other man no mercy.
After that, it was over in seconds, but they were the longest seconds of Hyacinth’s life.
He grabbed him by the neck of his shirt, hauled him to his feet with one mighty wrench, and then landed a blow to his jaw that should have sent the man back to his knees, except his opponent didn’t allow it. He gripped his shirt in a merciless fist and held him upright as he crashed his fist into the man’s face a second time.
At last, the hapless victim slumped forward and lay unmoving on the ground, his jaw slack with unconsciousness.
Was he only unconscious, or…
Hyacinth stared at his battered face, at the blood spattered everywhere, and the pool of vomit soaking into the dirt beside him. He was so pale, the streaked blood standing out in sharp relief against a face that had turned whiter than his shirt.
She clutched her stomach and doubled over as if she’d been struck herself. Bile threatened to gag her, but she choked it back down, terrified if she made a noise the man would come for her, drag her from the shadows, and…and…
Oh, God. Had he seen her? Her breath seized in her throat as his head jerked in her direction, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom. She shrank back against the wall, her lips moving in a silent prayer.
Please don’t let him see me. Please…
There was no telling what such a man would do if he discovered her. She’d just witnessed a bloody, brutal beating.
A beating or a murder.
Her stricken gaze fixed on the man still slumped in the dirt, then darted back to the other man, her breath whooshing from her lungs when he turned away from her and brought his attention back to the motionless body at his feet.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, as if he were trying to decide what to do.
In the end, he did what every murderer does.
