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I couldn’t move. Shock froze me to the spot as if my feet were glued to the floor.
The man stood too, and Marc pointed the gun at him. “If you even look at her, I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
The idiot had the audacity to laugh. As if this was a joke. As if it was nothing but empty threats. It wasn’t. And as much as I prayed this would be over, I couldn’t stand the thought of Marc killing again. I couldn’t let him do this. Not for me. Notbecauseofme.
“Don’t,” I whispered. His eyes flickered to me, then back to the man, slowly inching closer.
“Don’t come any closer.” His voice was cold, the threat crystal clear. I finally found the ability to move and scurried on trembling legs to his side.
“Marc,” I whispered, laying a hand on his arm. It was rock-hard under my touch. Warm skin stretched over muscles so tense they trembled. “Please,” I breathed. “Just—let’s get out of here.”
The man chuckled. “Don’t worry, girl, he doesn’t have the balls.” He again shifted closer, circling Marc until he was close enough to grab me.
I shied away, pressing closer to Marc, who tensed further.
“He can’t protect you,” the man taunted, pinning his gaze on Marc as he spoke, dipping his voice into a menacing hiss. “Just like he couldn’t protect Julie.”
The name made me gasp. And from Marc’s reaction, it cut him just as deep. During the moment of stunned shock, as his grip wavered and the past washed over him, the man lunged. I screamed the same moment he grabbed Marc’s wrist. I jumped away as they fought, standing with nothing to do other than wait for the shot to go off. My heart hammered in my chest, so hard and fast I feared it’d break my ribs and jump out. The guy was strong. Almost as tall as Marc and well-built, too. His grip was deadly. But so was Marc.
My eyes were on him as he struggled to hold on to the gun, to not lose. If he did, it was death. We both knew it. When the man’s free hand tried to grab Marc’s other arm, I wanted to cry. If he did, it was over, and the guy realized it too. If the sling didn’t give his weakness away, the way he shielded his left side, turning just out of reach, sure did. He was as terrified as I was. Maybe even more.
He was fast. So fast. Then my fear became reality. Quick fingers graced Marc’s arm, catching hold of the sling before he could twist out of reach.
NO! I screamed mentally. Then I charged him. One kick to his groin had him howling in pain, and the grip on Marc loosened enough for him to regain control and yank his arm and the gun free.
“Fucking cunt,” the man roared. His hand shot out, catching hold of my hair before I got away. I screamed from the sudden burning pain as he tugged me backward. My hands flew to his, trying to get them off, to ease the pressure on my scalp. Tears sprung to my eyes as he pulled harder, making me stagger back. I fell against him.
An earsplitting sound made me scream louder. My hands flew from my hair to my ears, but the sound rang out. The hand in my hair slipped away as the man collapsed to the floor. I scrambled away, lost my balance, and tumbled to the floor as well.
I felt Marc’s presence over me. Then one strong hand stroked my hair before cupping my face, forcing me to look at him. His skin smelled of something burnt, and as I blinked him into focus, his face was splattered in red.
Blood.
My belly twisted from sudden nausea, and it grew in intensity as my eyes fell on the body. He lay on his back, with a perfectly round hole in his shirt right above his heart. Blood quickly soaked the fabric, and I had to look away.
“You’re safe,” Marc’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “It’s okay.”
I looked at him, taking in this magnificent man crouching beside me, and started to cry. It was not okay. What he had to do. What he had to endure for me. I turned his life into a living hell. And it kept happening. Everywhere we turned, death followed.
“NO!” I shouted. “It’s not okay! It’s not okay, Marc!”
He stood, pulled me to my feet, and crushed me to his chest.
“I would do it again if I had to.” He spoke into my hair, his voice nothing but a raw rasp that made me shiver. “I’ll kill for you, butterfly. Don’t ever doubt that.”
I let out a quivering breath. He shouldn’t have to. But no, I didn’t doubt it. Not after what he just did. And despite the regret and the fear, it made me love him more. He really was my warrior.
And I’d be his.
The first time was revenge. This—was self-defense. Or defense of someone I loved, and that was pretty much the same thing. But watching a man bleed out on the floor and knowing I put him there…
It was fucking hard. I wasn’t a bad man, or so I tried to tell myself. I wasn’t fucking good either. The absence of regret told me that.
It’s not okay…Her words echoed in my head long after she said them. Making me question myself. Making me thinkshequestionedme. I never pretended to be some saint, but I couldn’t blame her if this was more than she signed up for. She loved a man, not a machine. And I didn’t know which category I fell under. Being emotionally dead for too long made coming back a fucking battlefield. And the main enemy was me.
Stepping away from her, I grabbed her chin, tilting her face to mine. “I’ll only say this once.” I looked at her, briefly allowing myself to drown in her ocean-blue eyes. “I’ll never hide who I am. Even when it gets ugly. If you want out—” my voice cracked. Even saying it was hard. I took a life for her. Letting her go, letting her have the option was fucking killing me too. “Now’s the time.”
She stared up at me, blinking those long butterfly lashes still wet from tears. Then she reached out, skimming her fingers over my cheek before standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “I’m with you. Through the ugly and the bad. I love you.”
