Page 57 of She Who Was Once the Sea

I was strong. I could easily take on several men at once. I’d done it before. But even I wasn’t immune to the element of surprise, and I couldn’t stop the muffled scream that tore at my throat as the second man dragged me backwards.

Shit.

I kicked my feet out as he pulled me backwards. I felt myself make contact with the first man, who swore as he got closer. He pulled something shiny from his pocket. It was clasped in his hand as he threw a punch that landed on the side of my face.

I saw stars.

"Fucking bitch," the man now holding me grunted as he pulled my arms closer together behind my back.

Bracing myself against the pain, I pulled my head forward and slammed it back. I connected with something solid and soft that crunched beneath the blow, and the man dropped me, crying out in pain.

As he fell to the ground, clasping his nose and whimpering in pain, I turned my attention to the first man. He was holding a knife—why did they all have knives?—and he stood with his arms and legs spread, like he was ready for a fight. His cigarette had fallen from his mouth, and was now just a glimmering ember on the street beneath us.

"Puttana di merda," he mumbled under his breath as he lunged for me.

I was ready for him this time. I snarled as he approached, revealing my teeth, and I reveled in the fear that shot through his expression. He knew he didn’t have enough time to slow down before crashing into me.

But the impact never came.

As quickly as he surged forward, he fell back, grasping the collar of his shirt as it tightened around his windpipe.

Behind him was Garrett, eyes blazing, with a terrifying look painted across his face. He pulled the man’s head back until his entire throat was exposed to the night air.

"That was impolite," Garrett whispered in a voice more deadly than any I’d ever heard from him. His hands wrapped around either side of the man’s head. "I think you should apologize."

The man squeaked. But before he had a chance to say anything, there was a loud crack as Garrett twisted, and the man fell to the ground in a still pile.

Behind me, I heard a shuffling sound as the second man scrambled and tried to run away. He was fat and slow, and it took barely any effort to catch him and pull his jugular from his throat.

Face still stinging from the punch, I shot Garrett an amused smile as I bent over the fat man and lifted his head by his thin tufts of hair. "What took you so long?" I asked, letting my teeth sink into the soft flesh of his neck. The blood was still warm.

I took a few deep swallows, feeling the sore parts of my body relax as it filled me up.

Garrett didn’t answer.

After a few seconds, I paused my drinking to look up at him.

His face was nearly lost in the shadows from this angle, but he stood stock-still, staring down at the man crumpled at his feet.

I could hear his breath coming in short, terrified little gasps.

"Garrett?" I said hesitantly, slowly lowering my meal to the ground.

Again, he didn’t answer. But his breaths grew louder and louder.

"Garrett," I repeated, standing and walking towards him, taking care to step over the dead men as I approached. When I was close enough, I reached out a hand and gently touched his arm, just above his elbow.

Finally, his eyes moved. They shot from the body to my fingers, and they looked…feral.

"I just killed someone," he whispered. "I just killed a person."

It was like all the rage had left him in a sudden rush.

"It’s okay," I tried to say, but he ripped his arm away from me. "Garrett," I said, more firmly, "if you hadn’t stopped him, they would have hurt me."

Those wild eyes found mine in the dark and they held on for dear life.

I clasped my hands on either side of his face. "You saved me," I said, as forcefully as I could. It wasn’t entirely true—I had already freed myself and would have probably been able to fight them off by the time he’d arrived…