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“I told you to never speak about my mother.” Strider swung, landing a punch right between his cousin’s eyes. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes—yes, I did—and I loved every second of it,” Frederick screamed, blood and spit frothing at his lips. “I loved watching him fall—the blood coughing from his lips. And I would have killed you too if I had seen you—they had one child and she was a girl—not a boy—not you. I touched her—they had a girl.”
Strider lifted his fist and swung at Frederick’s temple, sending his cousin’s head flailing. “You didn’t do your research—and you didn’t bother to look around. I was there to see what you did to him and I’ll see the same fate handed out to you.”
Another punch flew from Strider’s right fist, the sound of crunching bones sparking into the air. And another swing from his left.
Blood flew everywhere, off of Strider’s fists with each blow. No man could survive the pummeling he was handing out.
Pen’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her words frozen just as her body was. Strider couldn’t kill him. There was too much at stake. Their future. Their future they had only just found.
Battling the lead in her veins, Pen found her feet and rushed forward, trying to grab Strider’s elbow as it jerked backward. “Strider—you have to stop. Stop. You can’t kill him.”
“I can.”
“No.” She screamed at the top of her lungs straight into his ear. Making him hear her.
As loud as she screamed, it was nothing against the roar of the crowd in the air as the horses approached the finish line.
“No—no, Strider. Stop.” She managed to catch his arm, and she yanked backward with all her might, her feet slipping on the grass, sending her falling, hanging from Strider’s arm. “Stop. Please, just stop.”
His opposite fist lifted again. But then, miraculously, it paused.
He looked over his shoulder at her dangling off of him. His eyes closed for a long second and then he dropped the arm she held onto, shrugging her off of him.
She fell to the ground just as Strider turned back to Frederick and lifted his fist for one last deadly blow.
“Strider—”
He jerked back suddenly.
Jerked back, got to his feet and turned, stalking away from the scene.
He was walking away.
Walking away for her.
Her head dropped, her breath heaving against the grass. As much as she wanted to see his cousin dead, they were doing the right thing. She had done the right thing to stop him.
The movement next to her didn’t even register until the heel of a boot pinched her pinky finger into the ground as it passed her.
She looked up to see Frederick had staggered to his feet and was trailing Strider.
Silver.
Bloody hell.
A pistol in his hand. A pistol he was cocking.
Pen bolted to her feet, running, running. Faster. Faster. Frederick aimed the pistol at Strider’s back. Close enough he wouldn’t miss. Faster. Faster.
She jumped in front of Frederick.
Jumped just as the pistol fired.
A wall between Frederick and Strider.
A second of searing fire blasted through her side and her body jerked backward, the ground rushing at her.
