“You made a mistake, coming to my home,” I say, my voice void of emotion. “Putting your hands on my woman.”
“Your woman?” Eddie laughs. “Savannah is mine. Always has been. That little slut will spread her legs for any?—”
My fist connects with his solar plexus before he can finish the sentence. The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, and he gasps, struggling to breathe.
“Her name,” I grab a handful of his hair and yank his head back, “should never come out of your fucking mouth again.”
I release his hair and step back, circling him like a shark. I’m not in a rush. We’ve got all night.
“You know,” I say conversationally, “I should have killed you in Florida. That was my mistake.” I stop in front of him. “But don’t you worry, mother fucker. I won’t make it again.”
Fear flashes in his eyes, but he tries to hide it with bravado. “You think I came alone, old man? My brothers know where I am. They’ll burn this whole fucking city down looking for me.”
I smirk over my shoulder at Beast. “Can you believe this prick?”
Beast shakes his head and snorts. “It’s always the stupid ones.”
I nod, and Beast steps forward, handing me a pair of brass knuckles. I slip them onto my right hand, flexing my fingers to get the feel of them.
“You know what your problem is, Eddie?” I ask, not giving a fuck if he answers. “You picked the wrong fucking woman.” Rearingback my fist, I let it fly. The brass knuckles connect with his ribs, and the loud crack that follows is music to my ears.
I hit him again, this time in the kidney. He pisses himself, the urine soaking through his jeans and puddling on the floor.
“You think you can put your hands on a woman.” Another hit, to the other side of his ribs, and another crack.
I step back, breathing hard, watching as he gasps for air. Blood drips from his mouth, but it’s not enough, not after what he did to my butterfly.
“Please,” he wheezes. “I’ll leave her alone. I swear.”
My brows hike up. Is he for real? “Mother fucker, your time was always coming. You just accelerated shit by coming here.”
“Saved us a trip of tracking your ugly ass down.” Yukon grunts.
I nod to Beast, who steps forward with a large hunting knife. I take it from him, testing the edge with my thumb. It’s razor-sharp.
“You know what I’m going to do, Eddie?” I ask, letting the blade catch the light. “I’m going to make sure you never hurt another woman again.”
His eyes widen in terror, and he starts thrashing against his bonds. “Fuck you! No!”
I bring the knife up to his face, pressing the tip to his cheek hard enough to draw blood. “You broke into my home.”
I drag the blade down, opening a long cut from his cheekbone to his jaw. He screams, and the sound echoes off the walls.
“You scared her.” I slice open his other cheek. “You hit her.” He raped her.
Tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood. “Please,” he sobs. “Please stop.”
I ignore him, stepping back to admire my work. His face is a fucking mess, but I’m not done. Not by a fucking long shot.
“You know,” I say, wiping the blade on my jeans, “I considered just putting a bullet in your head. Quick and clean.” I shake my head. “But that would be too easy.”
I hand the knife back to Beast and turn to Yukon. “Give me the bat.”
Yukon grins, handing over his favorite Louisville Slugger. I test the weight in my hands, taking a practice swing.
“You think you’re tough, Eddie? Beating on women?” I spit on the floor. “Let’s see how tough you really are.”
I swing the bat, connecting with his knee. The crack of the bones shattering is audible, and his scream is so loud it hurts my ears.
