My adrenaline is pumping when I get behind the wheel of my car. Just as I’m about to pull away, the passenger door opens and Violet flies into the seat.
“What are you doing? Get out.” I don’t want her anywhere near him or me.
I’m no good for her. I never fucking will be.
“No, you’ll have to force me.” She pulls the seatbelt on and clips it in place.
Grunting, I reach my arm out, and her lips part in a gasp. Her posture stiffens as I grab the back of her headrest with my hand as I reverse out of my spot.
“I wasn’t going to fucking hurt you.” I don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it sounds, but I’m running on pure rage, and she’s in my line of fire. But I would never, not ever, intentionally hurt her.
“You don’t have to touch someone to hurt them,” she whispers under her breath.
My eyes flick to her, and I see her biting hard on her bottom lip as she types out something on her phone.
I should apologise, pull over, and calm the fuck down. The logical part of my brain knows this, but it's as though I’m on autopilot.
Pulling up to a house, I cut the engine and grip the steering wheel.
“Nathan, whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.”
I almost forgot Violet was with me. She’s not said a word, or if she did, I never heard her through all the thoughts assailing my brain.
“You don’t understand, Violet, men like him, they don’t stop. He’ll do the same to someone else. He needs to learn a lesson.”
She nods. “Yeah, he does, but you should call the police, do it properly.”
I scoff at that. “Oh, like my sperm donor, you mean?”
Her phone vibrates, drawing her attention away from me. I take that as my cue to get out of the car. I’m up the path and ringing the doorbell when a small hand wraps around my forearm.
“Nathan, please, just think. You’ll be the one in the wrong if you hurt him. You’re better than this. I know you are. It’s why I love you.”
Her words steal the breath from my lungs, and I’m momentarily stunned.
I shake my head. Maybe she’s just panicking and caught up in the moment.
The door swings open and a man stands there, glancing between us.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I look back to Violet, her eyes pleading, but I clench my fist and turn to face him fully.
“Are you Christopher Neilson?”
He smiles and nods. “Yeah, sorry, do I know you?”
I shake my head. “No, but you’re about to. It’s about Naomi.”
His entire demeanour changes upon the mention of her name.
“I don’t give a shit,” he says, crossing his arms and standing straighter.
Stepping over the threshold, I shove him backwards and he staggers, his arse landing on the bottom of the stairs.
Violet gasps behind me. “Nathan, stop.” Her tone is pleading.
The guy moves to his feet, and before I can register, his fist flies straight for my jaw.
