I don’t think. I grab him by his shirt again and slam my fist back into his face.
Iwillbeat him to a bloody fucking pulp.
I will destroy him.
He lets out a sound that’s half a yell, half a laugh, as if the pain is nothing to him.
He can laugh all he wants.
It doesn’t matter.
He’s done.
I crack his jaw. He tries to fight me off, but I elbow him hard and slam the brass knuckles into his throat.
The laughter is gone, his wheezing drowned out by the cacophony around us.
I keep punching.
My fist grows slick.
Not enough.
He deserves more than this.
Punch. Punch. Punch.
The brass knuckles split his skin apart, and even in the flickering lights of cell phone flashlights, I can tell that Ezio’s face isn’t a face anymore.
Can he still breathe?
Can he still see?
One more punch. One more scrape. One more?—
The lights turn on.
“Everybody! The front doors are open. Evacuatenow. Don’t stampede! But get the fuck out!” Anastasia announces through the speakers.
I stare down at Ezio’s body. I’m holding him up by his collar, but he isn’t moving.
Everything above his neck is a mess of dark red, oozing and dripping.
I should be nauseated by what I’ve done.
I should care that I’ve beaten this man to the point where he’s unrecognizable.
I drop Ezio’s motionless body and turn. Even as everyone else crowds toward the doors, I shove my way through the crowd in the opposite direction.
I will find Pandora.
I will get her out of here.
Nothing else matters.
Blaze will have to fend for himself.
I can almost hear the ticking of a clock in my head. How long do I have?
