Rage floods through me. Pure, crystalline rage that makes vision narrow.
I charge.
Patrick meets me halfway. We collide with brutal force.
He's skilled. Trained. Lands a devastating punch to my ribs that cracks bone.
I counter with an elbow to his face. Blood sprays. His nose breaks.
We grapple. Trade blows. Crash through furniture. Both fighting with the desperation of men who know this ends one way.
Patrick gets me in a chokehold. I drive my head back into his face. Again. Again. Until his grip loosens.
Spin. Knife from my belt. Slash.
The blade catches his ribs. Opens a deep cut. He roars, stumbles back.
I press the advantage. Close the distance. Drive my fist into the wound.
He screams. Swings wild. Catches my shoulder.
Pain explodes but I don't stop. Can't stop. This ends tonight.
I tackle him. We go down hard. I get on top. Rain down blows.
Face. Throat. Ribs. Anywhere vulnerable.
Blood sprays. His face is a ruined mess. Nose shattered. Eye swelling shut. Teeth broken.
He bucks beneath me. Throws me off with desperate strength.
We both scramble to our feet. Circling. Both bleeding. Both exhausted.
Patrick pulls a knife. "You should have killed me five years ago."
"I'm correcting that mistake now."
He lunges. I sidestep. Grab his wrist. Twist hard.
Bones crack. The knife clatters away.
I drive my own blade into his side. Between ribs. Deep.
He gasps. Blood bubbles at his lips.
I twist the knife. "This is for Katya. For Dmitri."
Pull it out. Drive it in again. Higher. Puncturing lung.
"For Mila's nightmares."
Again. Lower. Kidney.
"For threatening Valerie and my unborn child."
Patrick collapses to his knees. Choking on blood. Eyes going glassy.
I stand over him. Watch him die.
