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She whispered, “Okay.”
Taylor became quiet after that, and so did I. There was nothing more to say, not right now, not when all of my focus was put on driving there as fast as I could to get to her as quickly as possible. The line became silent, save for the sound of her breathing. Hearing her speak, knowing she was unharmed, gave me a semblance of relief. Not much, but a little.
Minutes passed, and I neared the house. I found it after a bit, and as I pulled up the driveway, I gazed at the outside of the house. Not a single thing had changed from what I recalled; even after all this time, I couldn’t believe my mother, the Black Wolf, had stooped to marry this fool. She’d always had money, but she’d never wanted a life with it. Marrying Tom Hill was supposed to have been her reset, giving her and me the family she so desperately wanted.
I got out of the car, strolling up to the front door, still holding the phone against my ear.
Whatever relief I’d had from hearing from her was short-lived, though, because soon enough I heard her dad’s furious voice: “What the fuck, Taylor?” It sounded as if she’d set the phone down; he didn’t sound close to the phone. “You brought him here? He’s got no right to be here anymore! He left us! Don’t you remember? He left us and he never looked back!”
The front door was locked, so I left the front of the house, moving to the back, where there’d be fewer eyes; fewer eyes from the street and fewer eyes from the neighbors. Less likely for someone to call the police.
“He’s here because you kidnapped me,” Taylor said. I could hear the urgency in her tone.
“I didn’tkidnapyou. I brought you home, where you belong—”
“This isn’t my home anymore! My home is with Creed now, not you!”
I was proud of her for standing up for herself, but it sounded as if her dad was blinded by his rage; he wouldn’t take her words lying down. As I made it to one of the back windows, I heard a sound on the other side of the phone: the slapping of skin on skin, and if I had to guess, I’d say the fucker hit her.
“Shut your mouth,” Tom hissed out. “If you don’t—”
“If I don’t, what? What are you going to do? You might be my dad, but I’m done taking your shit.”
I tore off the outer screen of the window, practically ripping it off the frame. I let loose all of the anger inside of me, punching the glass and cracking it with one blow. With another punch, I broke straight through it, shattering the glass into many jagged pieces. No time to pick a lock right now.
After that, I was able to twist my arm upward and unlock it, allowing me to slide the broken window up and crawl in.
On the phone, I heard the sounds of a scuffle, and I broke out into a sprint, darting through the living room, heading to the stairwell. I took two steps at a time in my rush to get upstairs, moving to Taylor’s old bedroom as quickly as I could—and when I ran in, the sight I saw… the sight I saw enraged me to no end.
Her dad had his hands wrapped around Taylor’s neck. He’d brought her down to the ground, his body towering over hers as he choked the life out of her. Her face had turned red, and struggle as she might, she couldn’t get him off, no stray glass to save her this time.
But she didn’t need a glass. I was here.
Tom was so intent on choking out his daughter, choking out my girl, while mumbling things about how she was such a shitty daughter that he neglected to realize I’d come into the room—and the very second I saw their positions, the very moment I noted his hands curled angrily around her neck, something in me snapped.
I rushed toward them, wrapping an arm around Tom’s neck from behind and jerking him back. My arm was inescapable, my grip around his neck so strong I could snap it in seconds if I needed to.
And it was a move he wasn’t expecting, mostly because he hadn’t heard me come in, too lost to his rage. His hands released Taylor’s neck, and as my girl gasped and coughed for breath, I pulled him off her, throwing him against the wall with a swift, strong spin of my body.
His back collided with the drywall, hard enough to leave a dent. Tom was spitting mad now, and as he glared at me, he muttered, “This ain’t your business. Get the fuck out of my house before I call the police.” A threat that might cause other people to back down, but I was not among their number.
I stood less than four feet away from him, my stance a deadly one—but he wouldn’t know that, because this idiot didn’t know that I killed worse than him numerous times before. “Go ahead,” I growled out, cracking my neck in anticipation of what was to come. “When they get here, they’ll find nothing but your body, still warm.”
When you said something your enemy wasn’t expecting, you could see it: the moment you caught them off-guard with your words. And while they tried to piece together what you’d said, you took advantage and acted.
Tom didn’t see me coming, even though I was right in front of him. My right hand curled into a fist, and I landed a hard, swift punch right across his jaw. He tried to hit me back, but I’d already landed another on his nose, shattering the cartilage and causing a good, steady flow of blood to flow from his nostrils.
I took a step back, easily outmaneuvering him, even in this small space. I didn’t take my eyes off him, not as he lumbered forward, away from the wall, trying to pay me back for those punches.
Meanwhile, Taylor had sat up and scooted herself to the opposite corner. She still breathed heavily, and I’d bet anything she sat there, watching us while rubbing her neck. She’d undoubtedly come out of this with another bruise.
“I should’ve known you’d come for her,” Tom spat, literally spitting out blood at me. It had run from his nose into his mouth; a disgusting sight. “After all these years, you think you can just waltz back here and be the savior, huh? You think you can save the fucking day, is that right?”
I glared at him, almost unblinking. If he knew me, he’d know I was no hero. He would know I was more than capable of handling him with one arm and my eyes closed. He’d know he was no match for me.
But he didn’t know me. Tom did not know what I did for a living, nor did he know what his second wife had been. I did not come from a family of heroes; I came from the opposite.
We were the night. We were the hired terror, slipping through your door when you weren’t paying attention, ready to slit your throat and end your life. We were the darkness, hiding in plain sight during the day. We weren’t heroes. If anything, we were villains.
