Page 105 of Redeeming the Villain
“You have sixty seconds before I forward the footage to the president.”
His eyes bulge out of his head, and he rushes over to me with his hands lifted in prayer. “Wait, wait, wait! I need more time, please!”
Cocking my head to the side, I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Ticktock.”
“Fuck!” he cries out and grabs his phone, unlocking the screen. His finger hovers over an app, but he doesn’t press it. “And if I don’t call?”
“Your gamble. Your consequences.” I cross my arms over my chest.
As I look over him as he contemplates what to do, my stomach twists sharply. How could he do that to her? A gross man abusing his power. I’m well aware of men like that; they are my least favorite kind.
“Ten seconds,” I warn him, ballparking the time in my head.
As he spends the next ten seconds sighing and crying, I unwrap the dressing on my left knuckles. They’re wrapped up from my most recent tattoo appointment. I haven’t been ready to show Alora yet, so I’ve kept them hidden, making it look like an injury from hitting someone on the ice.
“Time’s up,” my deep voice calmly tells him as I toss the bandage to the ground. “Go ahead and read this for me.” Lifting my knuckles in the air, I make a fist.
His gaze drops to my hand, and he sounds the tattooed letters out in his mind. Then his terrified brown eyes fly up to mine.
“Say it. Say her name,” I snarl, stepping toward him.
He quivers. “A-A-l-lora.” The coward of a man before me can barely speak, his voice frail.
Nodding, I smile at him—not in a friendly manner, but in a warning of what’s about to happen. “That’s right. And this one’s from her.”
My fist drives upward, colliding into the bottom of his jaw, clanking his teeth together. He wobbles back, trying to catch his balance, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not done yet.
My right fist slams into his stomach, his kidney, his face, and then my left does the same, his cries filling the house as I pummel into him.
He touched her, he made her feel helpless and weak, and he stole pieces of her that were not for the taking. Images of her walking up to the boards at the rink flash in my mind.
Her tangled blonde hair, her torn top, splotchy red skin, smeared lip gloss. But the most vivid of all is the mascara streaks running down her cheeks and neck, telling me everything I needed to know—she didn’t want that, and I was going to obliterate him.
Falling to the ground, I collapse on top of him, ramming my fists as hard as I can against his bloody and swelling face.
“Malik.”
My name echoes in my ears, but I push the sound away, focusing on the whimpers and dry-heaving of Alora last night. Of when the thought of him made her throw up either from disgust or fatigue.Hedid that.
I’m tired of powerful men thinking they can get away with hurting anyone in their path. He is just another one in the long line of demons who have no compassion for those around them.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m constantly fighting a losing battle. Like I’m not in control of my own life. Of feeling like everything I do will end up amounting to nothing in the end.
Then there’s her, the glowing light that calls me home. We’re simply opposite sides of the same coin … both falling victim to the manipulation of arrogant, greedy men.
The shiny fucking star in my life, and he thinks he can just touch her and get away with it?!
Pounding my fists into him over and over, I feel his blood splash back in my face, mixing with the sweat beading on my forehead.
Sound starts to fill my ears, gargled and muffled, but I piece together the end of Griffin’s sentence.
“… enough. You’ve done enough!”
Hands and arms wrap around me, yanking me up and off of the bloody mess on the floor. Tuning my surroundings back in, I realize that I might have hit him a few more times than I thought.
Out of breath, I stand to my full height and spit down at him. “Your job is already gone. I just wanted to see if you’d do the right thing. Clearly not.”
I drive my foot into his ribs, and he grunts. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
