Taking a leap at him, I pull her away as I slam into him, knocking them both down.
The fucker loosens his hold on her as they hit the ground.
I shove Lola as hard as I can.
She makes a sound as I try to get her away from his grasping hands.
I turn for a nanosecond to make sure she's okay.
That's all it takes for him to move under me. And his fist connects with my jaw.
Pain radiates outward.
Fucker.
I punch him back.
And fists fly.
"Stay. Fucking. Down." Each of my words has me punching him in the face.
Still, he tries to get at her as she scrambles, trying to get to her feet.
I look at him as he is trying to reach for his gun that is just a couple of inches away from his fingers now.
I jump up.
He freezes momentarily.
I take the chance to kick the gun and stomp my foot down on his wrist.
He howls with pain and tries to knock me over.
I want her as far away from the fucker as possible. "Run, Lola."
Holding my gun with a firm grip, I bring it down hard on his head.
With him a bit stunned, I shoot him in his right shoulder.
Try to hold a gun now, fucker.
I should shoot him in the heart or the head. The urge to kill is strong.
The urge to harm and maim is stronger.
After what I just heard, I'm going to have fun with some good old long, painful, drawn-out torture.
I kick him in the head and aim again, intent on hitting him somewhere that'll hurt and maim and bring maximum pain, but not kill.
I'm close range, so I shouldn't miss his fucking kneecap.
"Enzo," Lola cries. "Don't. He's not worth it. Lyndall. We need to... We need to rescue her. A-and his prisoner maid, Gretchen. They've done horrible, awful things to her."
I pull the trigger. Destroy his knee.
He howls again.
I stare down at him. "Where the fuck is my sister and what have you done to her and this maid?"
