“I should kill you,” Aran said. “You don’t deserve to breathe.”
“Please… I have a son. A mother—”
“Pathetic,” Aran muttered.
“And she didn’t? She had fucking family too. Did you care?”
He grabbed the man’s jaw and forced his face up.
“Did. You. Care?”
The man shook his head. His whole body shook. His tears streaked through blood and paint.
“Then why the fuck should we?”
I didn’t want to stop them. I didn’t want to run. Because he sold her. He fucking sold her like she was nothing. Like she was meat. Like she didn’t matter. And maybe that made me monstrous, but I didn’t care. He deserved everything that was coming to him. And somehow, they were allowed to do it. To beat him. To threaten him. To hold a gun to his head. But when I burned someone, when I lost control, it was a problem. We needed to keep a low profile. Stay quiet. Stay safe. I guess they forgot about that in the heat of the moment. Still. Seemed unfair. Although I couldn’t lie. There was something disturbingly satisfying about seeing them like this. Together. Moving in sync. One rage. One purpose. With an unspoken rhythm and shared fury. And gods help me, but I felt good.
“Please!” the man shrieked. “I can’t undo what I did—I’m sorry!”
Will stepped forward. Not fast. Not gentle. Just... inevitable. His boots squelched through the mess on the floor. He crouched down, slow and cold, eyes like broken glass.
“Don’t apologize to us. Apologize toher.”
The man turned toward me.
“I’m sorry—Miss—I’m so sorry, please—”
“Miss?” I said. “I thought it was bitch.”
The fire inside me curled tight, but didn’t rise. It stayed where it was, quiet, pulsing beneath my skin, almost amused. Like it knew I didn’t need it right then. The boys had it covered.
“Miss, I am so sorry,” the man begged. “I beg your pardon. Please. Forgive me.”
I stared at him. Bloodshot eyes. Face split and smeared with paint and snot. He looked like a ruined thing. And all I felt was disgust.
“No,” I said. “I don’t forgive you.”
I turned toward the door, legs stiff, body aching. My heart felt like a stone dragging behind me. Will followed me. His steps were always steady. Always there.
“We’re done here,” he said.
The door creaked open. Cold air slipped in. But I looked back once, just once. Aran was still standing over the man. The knife was in his hand now. His gaze locked on the bleeding mess below him, like he was doing the math.
What it would cost to let it go. What it would cost if he didn’t.
I turned to Will the moment the door closed.
”That was,” I started. “I’ve never seen you so…” My voice trailed, unsure how to name what I’d just witnessed. Dangerous? Commanding? Intriguing?
He looked away, like maybe he regretted letting me see it. That part of him. Whatever part that was.
“I couldn’t let him say those things about you.” His voice cracked like it cost him something to admit it. How he’d stepped in like I was some damsel in distress. “I just—fuck—I’m sorry. I—”
“No.” I stepped closer. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve seen me do far worse.”
That, and… I kind of liked having someone fight for me. A knight in shining armor, riding in on a white horse to defend my honor. I didn’t mind it at all. The boys knew I could’ve handled it. That I didn’t need saving. But they stepped in anyway.
He blinked, then let out a soft breath of laughter. “You know what? You’re right.”
