Richard stumbled backward, his pants undone, his face twisted in shock and fear. He opened his mouth... to explain, to beg, to lie... but I didn’t give him a chance. My fist connected with his jaw before a single word could form, and the crack of bone against bone was the most satisfying sound I’d ever heard.
“Who are—” he started, but I was already moving.
I grabbed him by the throat and dragged him toward the front of the house. He clawed at my hand, his fingers digging into my wrist, trying to pry himself free.
It was pathetic.
Useless.
I barely felt it.
All I could see was Frankie’s terrified face; all I could hear was her small voice saying,Stop, Daddy,and the red haze took over.
Richard’s feet scrambled against the floor, trying to find purchase, trying to slow me down. I yanked him harder, his body weight nothing compared to the adrenaline-stoked fury coursing through my veins. He crashed into the doorframe on the way out. His shoulder took the impact with a sickening thud, but I didn’t slow down.
Didn’t care.
The front door slammed open, and I threw him across the front yard like he was a sack of trash. He hit the ground hard, rolling once before trying to scramble to his feet.
Please...” he gasped, holding up his hands. “I can explain...”
I was on him before he could finish. My knee drove into his ribs, and the air left his lungs in a violent wheeze. He curled into himself, trying to protect his body, but there was nowhere to hide.
Not from this.
Not from me.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his face into the ground. Once. Twice. The wet crunch of his nose breaking barely registered. Blood sprayed onto the grass, dark and thick in the dim porch light.
“She’s achild,” I snarled, my voice barely human. I hit him again, my knuckles splitting against his cheekbone.
My hands found his throat, squeezing, watching his eyes go wide with terror. His hands clawed at mine, weak and desperate. His face turned red, then purple, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His pulse hammered against my palms until it started to slow.
I wanted to kill him, but he deserved so much fucking more. Deserved to suffer the way those girls inside that house suffered. The way Frankie suffered. The way Kat suffered.
I let go of his throat long enough to drive my fist into his face again. And again. And again. Blood splattered over my hands, warm and sticky. His head snapped to the side with each impact.
My hands found his throat again, squeezing with every ounce of strength I had. His eyes bulged, his face going from purple to gray. His struggles were weak twitches as his body started to shut down.
I faintly heard someone call my name. Hands grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me back. I shook them off, my focus entirely on the piece of shit beneath me who was still breathing when he shouldn’t be.
“Get the fuck off me,” I snarled.
“Stop, brother! You’re going to kill him.”
Arms wrapped around my chest and shoulders like a band of metal, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t break free. Someone hauled me backward, and I roared in frustration as Richard’s throat slipped from my hands.
“Let me go!” I fought harder, my elbow connecting with something solid. Someone grunted in pain but didn’t release the hold they had on me.
“Derek,” a familiar voice hissed. “It’s me—Jack.”
His words barely penetrated the red haze consuming my vision. I didn’t care who it was. I needed to finish him. Needed to make sure he never touched another child.
“He’s done, Derek,” Jack whispered in my ear, steady and firm. “He’s done. You got him.”
“He touched my daughter, Jack! He touched Frankie,” I growled, still straining against the man holding me.
“Look at him.” I recognized Gunner’s voice behind me and my struggling slackened. I knew I’d never break free from his giant ass. “Look,” he ground out.
