Ghost
Sometimes words were inefficient. Sometimes words just couldn’t convey the amount of shit you stepped into.
Sometimes you had to show, not tell.
My eyes swept over Rett’s scarlet cheeks just once, reaffirming he wasn’t hurt, and then all of my well-honed instincts shifted to the fool with his fist in the air. I took a step forward, and the man holding Rett dropped him and stepped back.
As if that would somehow erase what I’d just seen.
I kept my eyes leveled on him, memorizing every detail while silently closing the distance between us. Tension crowded the air, giving him a sample of the hell he’d just unleashed, and I watched his throat bob as his eyes tried to avoid mine.
But it didn’t matter where his eyes ultimately settled because there was no avoiding me.
“This doesn’t involve you, man,” he said.
I kept shrinking the distance between us, staringunblinking… resigned to what was about to go down.
He raised a knife, and I knew immediately that he’d pulled it on Pip, and that just would not do. His arm arched through the air, and Pip gasped. I caught his wrist and twisted, the bones breaking with a loud snap. The knife fell from his crippled fingers, body sagging in pain. I caught him by the scruff of his neck, squeezing hard enough to make him wheeze.
“Let me go, man! I’m sorry!”
I slammed him into the door frame face first. Blood splattered the dirty white wood instantly, and he dropped with a wail. He hit the ground and rolled, and I noticed a knife—if you could call it that—sticking out of his back. Using my foot, I pinned him down and glanced at Pip with an arched brow.
“It was all I had.” His voice was plaintive, bordering on a whine.
It only made my instinct that much more murderous.
The seams on the shirt this asshole was wearing ripped and stretched when I picked him up by the back of it, body hovering over the ground. He grunted and tried to plant his feet, so I dropped him on his already busted face.
“Unngh,” he grunted, pushing up onto his palms.
“Ghost,” Pip called, scrambling up only to drop again with a little whimper. His hand cradled his knee, and I realized he was hurt.
My foot shot out, toe jamming into the ribs of the fucker on the floor, but before he could fall, I shoved him down and slammed my palm into the knife sticking out of his back. He arched and let out a cry that my ears didn’t evenbother to hear.
Dragging him up by his greasy hair, I buried my fist in his gut, and when he doubled over and puked cereal all over the carpet, I let him fall in it.
“You really should have checked who he belongs to first,” I told him as he rolled in his own mess.
“You’re dead for this!” he spat. Frankly, the butter knife in his back masquerading as a weapon was scarier.
“Not if I kill you first.” I spoke quietly, but it was loud enough to bring a hush over the room.
“Go ahead and do it. You have no idea who I am. You’ll never have peace again.”
I made a tsking sound and hauled him off the floor so he could stare into my cold but utterly calm eyes. “If I wanted peace, I wouldn’t be here.”
Fear flickered over his face, feeding the savage inside me. That first taste was always the most potent, when someone finally realized they were far outmatched and nothing they did would change the outcome of their situation.
“You don’t even have a weapon,” he argued, one last puny attempt.
“I am the weapon.”
He exploded into motion, nearly knocking into Pip who was still favoring his knee.
I mean, it was like he wanted to die.Dumbass.
Snatching him away from Pip, I dragged him toward Hazard’s apartment. One well-aimed kick had the busted door giving way. Normally, I would have just killed him right there. There was no point in dragging it out. Death always wins. But the idea of Pip seeing what I was truly capable of left me witha cold, uncomfortable twist in my stomach.
