The bar is packed, but I manage to reach the counter and slide a folded note across it.
“Bourbon. And a strawberry daiquiri.”
The bartender glances at the note before giving a short nod.
“I’ll bring them over.”
I turn, and I don’t understand what it is about today that seems to inspire everyone to test my patience.
It’s as if they’re all determined to see me snap.
A drunk fucker has his hand wrapped around Piper’s wrist.
He’s trying to pull her towards him.
She says something to him, but I’m still too far away to hear the words over the music.
But the moment he pulls again and she tries to pry his hand off her, shaking her head in refusal, something in me snaps.
I move before I think. Before anything remotely rational has a chance to intervene.
My fist connects with his face, and he hits the floor instantly.
And I don’t stop there.
I fucking can’t.
This is it.
I’ve bloody snapped.
I throw punch after punch, only vaguely aware that the man lost consciousness several blows ago.
Everything slips away, and I find myself becoming the man I only ever allow out in the boxing ring.
And ever since Piper entered my life, I’ve found myself becoming him more and more.
The man I hate, the one I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep caged.
That fucking monster.
The one that wants blood, the one with a darkness nobody truly knows exists, because I make damn sure they never see it.
Thought ceases to matter, and so does reason.
I don’t know how long it lasts.
And I don’t fucking care.
He put his hands on my girl.
He grabbed her, and she saidno.
She fucking said no.
Who the fuck does this bastard think he is?
If someone says no, then no means fucking no.
