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“Don’t fucking touch me.” I shove him with all my might, barely moving him.
Some of the guys laugh, and a couple of them stand up.
I ready myself to fist-fight this little bitch who thinks he can fuck with a girl. His pathetic attempt at masculinity is no match for my short-person syndrome.
Do I think I can win this battle? No.
But am I going to try? Fuck yeah.
"Who do you think you are? Coming in here like that?" The guy pushes me, sending me stumbling a few feet. "You fucking cunt." His hand forms a fist, and his arm winds back.
A shot rings out so loud my ears ring. The man’s eyes widen and he lowers his gaze to his chest. Blood seeps through his shirt, slow at first and then pools all around the wound. His legs give out under him and he drops to his knees.
Behind him, Savini stands, his arm outstretched and a smoking gun in his grasp.
“Out, everyone fucking out,” he commands of the room.
Without hesitating, all the people rush out the front door, scattering like their lives depend on it, because, well, they do.
When the place is empty, aside from the two of us and the newly dead man, Savini spits out, “What are you doing here?” He turns, going back into the room he was just in.
It’s now or never, Banks. You came here for a reason, get on with it.
I follow him in, watching as he lowers his weapon onto the table and grabs the glass of golden liquid. He swallows it down and discards the cup carelessly. It bobbles before settling upright, almost falling off the edge.
“I asked you a question.” His voice grows deeper. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” When I don’t answer, he continues. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”
I reach into my waistband, and pull out the gun I stole from Axel’s apartment a week ago. I train it on him, my hands shaky but my aim steady. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t killyou.”
Savini turns, slowly, an unreadable expression on his face. He chuckles and steps closer. “Pull the trigger, fawn.”
I grip the handle tighter, my finger itching to end this right here and now. But a mysterious force prevents me from following through with my plan.
“You killed my brother.” Tears well in my eyes.
“We already went over this. He wasn’t a good guy.”
“Neither are you. You hurt people for a living.”
“I get paid for what I’m good at.”
“And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“Was hurting me just pro-bono? I told Axel the truth.”
“You.” Savini moves toward me, his eyes narrowing. “Did this to yourself.” He continues until his chest is pressed against the barrel of my gun. “You’re going to regret not pulling that trigger when you had the chance, Banks.”
I’m struck by the memory of my knife at his throat, the way he pushed through it, and turned it on me, fucking me with force and making me climax harder than I ever have before. My gaze flicks down to the cut on his neck, similar to the one on mine. I recall him being afraid that he had hurt me and tending to the wounds with such care. He was rough, but then gentle.
In my momentary distractive state, he disarms me, pulls me to him, and shoves the gun into my ribcage. “You’re fucking with the wrong type of people, fawn. I could end your life with a simple movement.”
“Do it.” I lean into the thing and wish he would shut up and put me out of my misery already.
I’ve lost my brother, twice now—first with his death, and then with the knowledge of the truth. I’ve lost Axel, I’ve lost Savini. My mother. Anyone I’ve ever truly cared for is gone.
I’ve made all these damn rules and did everything I could to block out my feelings but none of it protected me from being hurt.
