Page 110 of Saving Wyatt

I trapped his wrist around my fingers and slammed his hand to the floor trying to loosen his grip on the Glock.

He didn’t budge. He squirmed under me, his legs flailing, desperate to get away from under me.

With each passing second, my body strained more and more and my muscles weakened. And what was worse was that I didn’t know if Ari was okay. If he’d been shot. If he was…

No. I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t care if my muscles tore and my bones broke. I needed to fight. To keep going. For him. For my Ari.

I punched Wilson over and over again. In the stomach, in the chest, in the face. I did everything to immobilize him. To get that Glock off him and into my hands.

How was he so strong? Or was it my aging body failing me? I should have done a better job keeping my physical routine after retirement, but with the bar and everything going on, it had taken a backseat.

If I lost Ari because of my stupid old body, I couldn’t live with myself.

I had to kill this motherfucker before he killed Ari. If he hadn’t already.

“Yes, hi! This is Dr. Ari. Mayor Wilson is in my house and trying to kill me and my boyfriend. The address is…”

His voice was like a lullaby in the dark. It gave me strength and even more motivation to get this motherfucker down.

It was now or never.

“You hear that? They’re coming for you,” I snarled. “They’re coming for you.”

He went very still and pierced me with his evil gaze. “Look how that turned out last time.” He laughed.

He jerked. I lost my grip on him. I’d been foolish enough to let my guard down, even if momentarily, and he used that to gain one up on me.

He fired behind me. I pushed his hand away too late. And pinned him back under me.

I turned around.

Ari was still crouched in the corner between bed and bedside table, but the phone had dropped from his hands to the floor and plumes of feathers floated around him. There was a hole on the side of the bed and a mere few inches from his neck. His eyes were bigger than I’d ever seen before, and the color drained from his face right in front of me.

Something snapped in me.

I’d wasted too long feeling sorry for this motherfucker and I’d come this close to losing Ari. I had run out of words. Run out of compassion.

I snarled.

I whacked his hand back with all my strength and bashed my forehead at his nose. When the gun slipped from his hand, I snatched it right up, sat up, and pointed it at his head.

“You’re right. Last time didn’t work out,” I spat and pulled the trigger before he could react.

No more retorts. No more arrogance. No more Wilson.

It was almost cathartic, being splashed with his brains and blood. It was something primal and so satisfying.

I’d killed a lot of people in my life, but I knew this one wouldn’t haunt me. Ever.

This man, who had destroyed this island, who had taken everything from me and from my family, and who had come so close to killing the love of my life, deserved to die, and I wouldn’t spend one moment mourning him.

I pushed myself off his limp body and crawled to Ari who took me in his arms without question, without hesitation.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded and leaned his forehead on mine. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Are you?”

I slid my hand down to his chest, placed it over his heart, and waited to hear its beat. It was probably silly but I needed to feel it, to know there was no doubt in my mind he was still here, with me, in the land of the living, and that I wasn’t hallucinating.