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There’s a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Mom answers for me.

The door slowly opens, revealing Jonathan in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, just as heartbroken. I can just make out Gavin in the distance, standing outside of his door with my father.

My arms release my mother and reach for Jonathan. He’s on his knees beside my bed, instantly. Bandages cover his hands, but it doesn’t keep him from holding me in a desperate embrace. My mother soothes us both as we cry together. Lost to nightmares that don’t go away even when we’re awake.

And he’s the only one who knows this. Because he survived it with me. And we’re living through it together each day and night. We promised each other so many things over the years. In this moment, his pain is mine. And mine is his.

A vow we never intentionally made, but one we’ve sworn to keep.

Hello?” The voice that answers Emma’s phone doesn’t sound like her. At least, not like she should sound.

“Emma? Are you okay? Where are you?” I’m standing at the soccer field where she’s supposed to be warming up for her game. And now I’m rushing back to my truck. Wherever she is, she’s not okay. It only took the one word to tell me that.

“Umm… I had to get my shirt.” I can barely hear her.

“What happened? Emma, where are you?” I’m in my truck, impatiently waiting.

“I had to take Rachel to the hospital.” She’s on the verge of tears. “Jonathan…”

“Are you okay?” I honestly don’t give a shit about Rachel. I need to know Emma’s safe.

“Yeah.” She blows out a quivering breath. “There was some guy looking for money. He beat her pretty bad.”

“What?” My volume rises. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. But she’s a mess.”

I turn out of the parking lot, heading in her direction. “Where are you now? I’m driving back toward Weslyn. Where are you?”

“I’m going back to her house. I have to pack a bag so she can stay at Sharon’s.”

So many red flags scream this is wrong. “Emma, I don’t think you should go back there.”

“He’s gone.” Her quivering voice doesn’t convince me of anything.

“Don’t go into the house until I get there,” I stress before hanging up. I press the gas, hoping she listens. But knowing she probably won’t.

I recognize his car parked on the cross street. The guy from Mick's. She’s inside with him. I’m out of my truck and through the front door in time to see his boot connect full force with Emma’s ribs.

And then I only see red.

“Emma!”

I bound up the stairs in several strides. Rachel’s friend is in my grip and slammed against the wall before he realizes I’m there. My fist meets the soft resistance of his gut. He keels over, gasping.

Adrenaline awakens the rage, fueling my muscles and shutting down every thought. My protective instinct takes over, needing to keep this piece of shit from hurting someone else—Emma—again. I release the blaze I've held at bay, allowing it to erupt.

I land a punch to the side of his head while he’s still trying to catch his breath—rocking him off balance. Before he can recover, I slam him with an uppercut to the jaw. He flies backward, landing on the floor.

This isn’t a man. He isn’t a human being. He’s worse than the monster living inside of me.

I kneel over him, holding him up by his shirt as I repeatedly pummel his face. He will never lay a hand on a woman again. I pound in my reminder again and again, making sure he'll never want to hurt anyone… ever.

I have no awareness of pain. Or fatigue. Only the hatred.

I’m no longer in control—submitting to the insatiable rage within my coding. I lose all awareness other than the need to punish him. To punish me.