The room freezes as pieces of wood fall around me. For a heartbeat, no one moves.
Then I lunge.
My shoulders slam into the asshole holding the blade embedded deep in Scarlet’s chest. His weight topples under mine, but only he falls to the floor. My foot comes down hard, driving his head through the rotting wood, smashing against the concrete base beneath, and I stomp on his skull until it shatters like a fucking melon.
The others move, their boots scuffing against the floor.
Raging, I turn.
Another man charges me. Whipping around, fists still bound, I drive my head into his nose. Cartilage snaps. His blood sprays hot against my face. He stumbles and I knee him in the balls until he topples over. Grasping the moment, I side-kick him straight in the face. He drops like a stone, but I don’t take any chances. I slam my foot onto his head until his skull cracks beneath my boot.
In the far distance, a commotion sounds, but I have no brain space for it.
Sharp pain blossoms in my side, but it’s Scarlet who bellows in response to it. Grunting, I twist in time to see the last mercenary pulling his hand from my ribs. When I reach down, a blade sticks out of me. I pull it out and maneuver it so that I can slice the rope holding my wrists as the man charges me headfirst.
I’m not sure if I cut the rope, but the ligatures give in when I strain against them, and my hands are finally free. My teeth find his ear as he slams me against a creaking wall, and I bite down until I feel the crunch of cartilage. He screams, trying to pull back, but I hold him to me and drive the knife into his neck. Blood fountains, hot and thick, drenching me.
When I turn, Duval is on his feet. He scrambles backward, shouting orders, though I’m not sure to whom. Maybe more of his mercenaries litter this old house, but I couldn’t give a shit about them right now.
Yet, there’s a response to his call somewhere in this house. Gunfire erupts, startling my spine straight, but I have to get to Scarlet.
Reaching forward, I grab Duval by the collar and twist around, launching him to the floor where I can fucking see him.
“Stay there!” I command.
I turn to Scarlet. Her head hangs low, crimson trickles from her wounds, and her breathing is shallow.
The knife that could have plugged the hole in her chest lies on the floor, and too much blood flows out of the wound. I drop to my knees, pulling at the ropes binding her, my bloodied hands trembling as I cut through the restraints with the same knife that cut her.
“Scarlet,” I whisper, my vulnerable tone unrecognizable even to me. “Kitten?”
Her eyes flutter open, and she gives me the faintest hint of a smile. But it falls once she looks down. “You’re bleeding.”
I know. I can feel myself weakening. That asshole must have hit something important. Pain rips through my lung but it’s her state that concerns me more.
My answer lodges in my throat as Duval makes a desperate lunge. I grab the blade off the floor and catch him by the throat mid-charge, slamming his back against the wall.
“I don’t care what you did to me, motherfucker. But her? My fucking Scarlet?” I rage, holding him by the hair.
I sink the knife into the base of his throat, then slice upward—a deliberate move that spills his life onto the ground. I plunge my hand into the gaping wound, grasping and ripping until I find his spine, and with a harsh yank, the bones snap. Duval crumples, lifeless at my feet.
The room falls silent, save for Scarlet’s and my shallow breaths.
I collapse beside her and pull her into my lap, ignoring the pain radiating from my wound. Brushing the stray strands of hair off of her blood-stained face, I look into her coffee-colored eyes that hold so many emotions for me.
I failed her. And yet she looks at me like I hung her moon.
“Stay with me,” I murmur, my voice shaking. “You’re mine, Scarlet. Forever. You don’t get to leave me.”
Her hand twitches, weak but alive as it grips mine. And something burns within me, searing behind my ribs. It’s not rage this time. It’s something far more terrifying.
The door crashes open. A tall, wide figure fills the frame, and I tense. But when he rushes into the space, I swear the scarred beast looks like a veritable angel.
“Maddox, thank fuck.”
“Are you okay?” He falls to his knees before us.
Sliding my arms under Scarlet’s body, I try to lift her to him, but agony slices through my body, and I fail to swallow the pained grunt as I look into his eyes. He blurs and darkness wobbles as the light above us flickers.
