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“No?” I continue stalking toward him. “Then who is?” His eyes lower to Kennedy, and I lunge.
I tackle him to the floor and fling my blade across the room, letting it skitter along the floor. This is a bare hands kind of fight, a bare hands death. Gripping his throat with one hand, pinning him to the floor, I bring my fist down on his face over and over.
He blocks one of my punches and shoves me off him, making me land on the floor. He scrambles to his feet, staying crouched like an animal on the verge of attack. I wipe my lip with my thumb, laughing at the blood I see.
He’s not dumb enough to take his eyes off me again.
I jump to my feet, making him stumble back a small step. I laugh again, high pitched and piercing in the silent bar. I leap forward, making him move backward.
“Fucking pussy,” I say, laughing again. “This will be so fucking fun.”
When I jump forward this time, he forces himself to stay put, but I see the fear in his wide eyes. He lands a blow to my jaw, snapping my head to the side. I rub it as I look back at him, nodding slightly.
His eyes widen more, aware that he just royally fucked up.
Another small whimper comes from Kennedy and it just pisses me off all over again.
I failed her. I should’ve come straight to the bar instead of waiting for her at home. I should’ve been here to protect her, and I wasn’t.
I decide I don’t care about taking my time anymore. I snap my fist out, hitting him hard and fast. As he tries to recover, I move behind him, kicking the backs of his knees and forcing him to kneel on the floor. I lock my elbow around his throat, my other arm around his head, and squeeze.
His body flails and he claws at my arms, but I squeeze harder. My eyes roll back, my nostrils flaring, as I feel the life drain from him. He tries to get his feet under him again, but he can’t.
He starts going limp. He tries fighting it, but it’s only a matter of moments before he’s gone. His breath turns gargled as he tries to inhale, but he can’t, not with me crushing his throat. I follow him to the floor as I squeeze tighter, his body finally relaxing. I hold on for another minute, just to make sure the fuck is really dead.
I let go and check his pulse—or lack of one. He’s gone. Fucker got off a lot easier than he should’ve.
But I need to take care of my girl.
I half run, half crawl to Kennedy. I slam to my knees, skidding to her, my hands already outstretched. I stroke her face, trying to wipe the drying blood from her pretty skin.
“I’m here, baby,” I say softly. “You still with me?” She tries to nod, but her face crumples in pain. “Where does it hurt, love?” She tries to lift her hand, but it limply falls back to her side. “Don’t move. Just tell me.”
“Head,” she rasps. “Belly.” Her hand slides onto her stomach and she cries out.
My hands shake as I lift her shirt, then curse so violently she winces. Bruises are already blooming across her abdomen, some of the skin torn open.
“What did he do?” I ask darkly, my jaw clenching.
“Kick,” she whimpers. “Hurts, Ez.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Suddenly, I’m on a New Zealand beach, those same words pouring from Elaine’s lips.
I tell her I know.
I promise her I’ll help.
I swear everything will be fine.
I failed her, too.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I choke out, the words of my past haunting me in this moment. When I open my eyes, it’s a bloody blonde head I see instead of Kennedy’s dark one. It’sherbruised blue eyes instead of Kennedy’s hazel ones.
I slam the heel of my palm into the side of my head, trying to get rid of the haunting images.
Out.
