“What the?—”
“Quit fucking around,” he barks, walking past me like I’m no threat before grabbing Mark’s ankle to drag him toward the boys. “We don’t have all fucking night.”
I don’t understand.
Two?
There’s been two of these sick bastards hunting Leo all along and… Wait. What did he just call me?
“Hurry up.” Chase aims his gun at Pete but he’s looking at his partner. “If you want to pull off any of the shit you were talking about, now is the time.”
“Right.” The guy in the hood nods before his free hand moves to the top of Leonor’s pants, his gloved fingers pushing under the elastic and moving lower. “If I want him to bear witness to everything, I better get a move on.”
He shoves her yoga pants down to the floor and the second she’s exposed, I lunge.
“I don’t think so,” he yells as he yanks her to him again, producing a knife that he points at her stomach.
He’s threatening our babies.
This motherfucker is threateningourbabies andourgirl, and I am fuckingdone.
Suddenly, one of the candles to the far left toward the boys hits the floor, the distressed wood immediately catching on the flame and when both Chase and the bastard holding Leo look, the shit hits the fan.
Markus kicks Chase in the knee, the pop of cartilage audible to everyone and while the bastard in the hood lets go of Leonor long enough to draw his gun, I act.
I throw myself at him, taking him down in one forceful slam, his gun skidding toward Leo as his knife flies toward the boys.
But I don’t bother checking on them.
They can hold their own, passed out or not, and I have one thing on my mind.
Eliminating this threat once and for all.
Baring down on this fuck’s chest, I use my knees to pin his arms to his sides then I’m hitting him.
Relentlessly.
Mercilessly.
I punch him in the mask over and over until it breaks, then I keep going even when I see skin and blood.
“Lucius,” he gurgles from under me as I grab his good and hit him again. “Lucius!”
I pause briefly as the mask falls away, hesitating when his real voice is choked out at me. “Franc?”
He spits a mouthful of blood as well as a few teeth, looking up at me through shards of PVC and swollen flesh.
“Don’t.”
I frown. “Don’t?”
Franc nods the best he can. “Think of Mama.”
“Don’t?” I sneer as I lean toward him.
“You can kill him, he’s Colin Hastings brother,” he says as he spits some more blood. “He planned this for years. Wanted to get back at you for killing his brother.”
I can’t even process what he’s saying right now, how he’s giving me the big reveal in hopes it’ll save him.
