If he screams, I don’t hear it. But there’s a tearing feeling as the skin beneath my teeth begins to give, and his arm retreats.
I have enough time to spit out his blood before the next attacker reaches me, shoving me into a table.
With one hand, I manage to keep him at bay as my other reaches for a bottle. Smashing it over his head does very little to deter his vengeance on me. But stabbing the shattered glass into his neck works better.
I kick the spluttering body off me to find the final body crouched over the one cradling his torn-up arm.
I spit more blood from my mouth as I watch them carefully. They’re not attacking anymore. But the quiet hasn’t subsided. There’s still a threat then.
And they should pay for this.
I take a step closer, but they back up. The one cradling his arm drags the other by his sleeve to the door. It’s not a satisfying ending, but that doesn’t matter.
Because Isabella has stopped laughing.
Dread pools in my stomach as I turn toward them.
Luis.
He’s straddling her. His hands are over her neck and he’s grinning like a madman, despite the fact one of his eyes is…is…well, it’s gone. All that remains is a bloody smear that’s dripping down one side of his face.
But Isabella. Isabella.
My Isabella.
Hishands.
He’s going to lose those hands.
If it was quiet before, my mind is deafeningly silent now.
My foot collides with his ribs, and he goes flailing into the wall.
Isabella is still breathing; I can see her chest still straining to rise and fall. That will have to be enough for now.
I approach the bar and find what I’m looking for quickly. Quick enough to return to Luis before he has time to right himself.
He’s saying something to me, I think. But I can’t hear him. And he’ll stop soon enough.
I grab him by the collar and slam him into the floor, straddling him like he’d been doing to Isabella moments before. There’s no hesitation as I grab one of his arms and pin it above his head.
The knife is too blunt for this not to be messy.
His other hand claws at my arm as I commit myself to the task. Nails scratch helplessly at my skin, leaving bloody tracks behind.
But I keep going. Keep sawing.
At some point, he stops fighting it. His skin turns grayer, and his remaining eye starts to slump closed. Maybe he passes out from the pain. I don’t really know or care.
But finally, his hand comes loose.
And there’s a soft touch on my shoulder.
“Teo.”
Her voice isn’t right. He ruined her vocal cords.
The knife slashes across his throat in one swift movement. The body beneath me goes limp in an instant.
