Page 46 of The Quiet Witness

I’m sorry for this. Memories were colliding with each other, and she couldn´t tell which was the present or part of the past.

Air. Her lungs strained against the freezing cold. The weight lifted off her struggling body. Coughing and gasping she heard the sounds of a scuffle.

Another shadow. A hand landed on her shoulders and her body shied away from the touch. Words… someone was talking to her. The touch disappeared. A second, five, ten. Gradually her senses returned.

“Katherine. Look at me.” The deep voice caressed her panic.

He came. He came.

The thought kept rushing through her mind. Slowly, she turned, searching for the familiar green eyes. They didn’t disappoint with the anger swirling in them. His hand flexed as if wanting to reach out. But he held back.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s alright.” He sat on his haunches next to her. Close but not quite touching.

The pressure had lifted, but the ghost-like fingers were still pressing on her neck. She reached out, wincing as she touched it.

“That’s going to be tender for a while.” He murmured.

Lucien pushed up to his full height. Turning away. Her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” Even that hurt to utter. Scraping past her raw throat. She hadn’t even realized she’d moved until he glanced down to where her fingers had grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving.” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just gonna have a conversation with these dudes.”

A conversation…

Did he just take on three men?

She untangled her fingers, leaving behind red marks on his wrist.

And saw three able-bodied men, writhing on the floor.

“I can’t help myself but wonder.” Lucien bent down next to his victim. Muttering in the man’s ears. “What were you going to do with a woman by herself? Is it textbook abuse of your power or… something more?”

She could have been… could have. There was no finishing that thought. He’d been there.

Had brought down three men. His breathing still as steady as always. No signs of injury on his end. Nothing but a quiet fury in his confident stride.

Kate watched in silence. She could see and hear. But nothing more.

Lucien grabbed the man’s fingers and twisted them harshly. The man howled.

Kate flinched on instinct. And yet, there was no voice telling her to stop Lucien.

“There is a killer within you. I felt it crawling underneath that skin of yours.” She folded in on herself. It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true. But as the thought raced through her mind. It collided with… They deserved it.

“An answer would be good. Right about… now.” The man mewled like a kitten. Muttering a string of sorries.

Were these the men that would have made her life a living hell? One clutched onto his nose, bleeding profusely while one arm lay limp against his side. The tallest one, who’d attacked her lay unconscious or perhaps worse.

Lucien went on, unperturbed by the man’s cries for mercy. “About an inch or so left here, pal, until your arm will be useless for many, many months. If it ever gets back together that is.”

His calm chilled her to the bone. Those very fingers, not fifteen minutes ago, had pulled her against him. But he’d done this before. Every move so easy.

He wasn’t only a killer. He clearly knew how to inflict pain. How to… get someone to talk. How to torture.

And yet, he saved me.

Lucien’s focus whisked to her. Lingering on the paleness of her face to scan for injuries. His voice deepened. “Guess there are worse psychopaths out here.” With a nonchalant twist, the man’s arm snapped.

Kate’s hands pressed against her ears. Drowning out the screams. But her eyes were glued to the scene. Lucien, the statue of calm… experience. And the man squirming on the ground like a snake whose head had just been cut off.