Page 162 of Broken Blades

And I hadn't been there.

That was the part that kept looping through my head. I hadn't been there to stop it. Hadn't been there to make sure he understood exactly what would happen if he ever touched her again.

I got out of the truck.

The apartment building stairs creaked under my weight. Second floor. Third door on the left. Music thumped faintly from somewhere down the hall—bass-heavy and muffled.

I knocked once.

Footsteps shuffled inside. The door swung open.

A guy in his twenties stood there, holding a beer, half-focused on whatever game was playing on the TV behind him. Polo shirt. Expensive watch. Smug face I wanted to break the second I saw it.

He blinked at me.

"Connor?" I asked, though I already knew.

He nodded slowly, recognition dawning. "Yeah… hey, you're that hockey⁠—"

I punched him.

Hard.

Right across the jaw.

His head snapped back, beer bottle clattering to the floor.

I hit him again before he could recover.

Then a third time.

He crashed backward into the apartment wall, sliding down with a grunt of pain and shock. His hand went to his face, blood already dripping from his nose.

I grabbed his collar and hauled him halfway upright, slamming him back against the wall.

My voice came out low. Controlled. Deadly.

"You ever get in the same space as Chastity again…" I leaned in close enough that he could see exactly what I meant. "I'll fucking kill you."

His eyes went wide—real fear, not just surprise. He tried to nod, but my grip on his collar made it jerky and pathetic.

I released him.

He slid to the floor, stunned, gasping, one hand still pressed against his bleeding nose.

I straightened, adjusted my jacket, and walked out without another word.

The door swung shut behind me.

My knuckles throbbed as I took the stairs two at a time, adrenaline still buzzing hot under my skin. The cold air hit me when I stepped outside, sharp and grounding.

I climbed back into the truck and sat there for a moment, breathing hard.

I shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb, leaving Connor and his bleeding nose and his expensive watch behind.

Because some things weren't about revenge.

They were about making sure the people I loved stayed safe.