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He smiles at his sister, “Nash, help yourself.”
I walk over to the table and peruse the available items. As much as beating him with a hammer sounds fun, I want him to feel her pain. I pick up what looks like an old hunting knife and walk over to him.
“You’re weak, Matt.”
He growls, “I am not.”
Glaring at him, I say, “No? A real man would have come to the source not gone after an innocent woman.”
Plunging the knife into his arm, I pull it down, creating a long, deep cut. He screams, “FUCK!”
I move to his other arm and give it the same treatment.
Matt cries out, “I’m sorry, alright.”
Hunter laughs, “They always do that, ignore him.”
“She didn’t deserve what you did to her, butyoudeserve what I’m going to do to you.”
After cutting him in all the areas he cut her, I stand back and take in what I’ve done. Blood drips down his skin eventually pooling at his feet.
Max comes up beside me, “Do you feel better?”
I nod, “A little, yes.”
“Want to finish him?”
I sigh, “I do.”
“Let me show you.”
Max goes up to Matt, grabs him by his hair, and yanks his head back until it slams into the cross, “Just slide the knife here, deep,” he says, motioning across his neck.
Matt cries, “Please. Don’t.”
Tears stream down his face, and snot rolls down his lips as he trembles violently.
I walk to Matt, and Max let’s go of him and moves out of the way. I grab his hair and force his head back as I growl in his ear, “Nobody hurts what’s mine and gets away with it. Rot in hell, asshole.”
Then I slice his neck deep, causing blood to pour down his body, all over my hands. Should I have regrets? Should I feel bad? I don’t. I’ve done horrible things in my life. Hurt those I love. But this is the first time I’ve taken a life. I wouldn’t change it if I could. If a hundred men hurt Ivy, a hundred men would die. I will never stop protecting her regardless of what anybody says, including my father. I will protect her with my last dying breath.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
IVY
Ispent a week in the hospital, and now I’ve been home for a week. I’ve not seen Nash once. As much as it has killed me not to sneak out to see him, I wasn't strong enough physically to climb up and down a tree. The door is not an option because it chimes whenever it’s opened. With my dad on high alert for all things Nash and Ivy, I didn’t want to risk him waking up if he heard it. I’ve spent almost all my time painting. Tonight, the wait is over.
Opening my window, I climb out and down the tree. Dropping to the ground as carefully as I can, I walk around to the pool house. Grabbing the key under the rock, I open his door and close it quietly behind me. When I walk to the kitchen, I spot Nash standing with his hands gripping the island, shirtless, his tattoo of black wings on his back on full display. I stand staring for a few minutes, taking in every muscle, his perfect ass in his black boxers. When I realize I’m gawking like a pervert, I speak his name, announcing my presence.
“Nash.”
Immediately he turns around, facing me, and he growls, “Princess.”
He rushes to me and fists his hands in my hair. Tilting my head back, he says, “You should not be here.”
“I couldn’t not be,” I whisper.
A pained look crosses his face, “I thought you were done with me. I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”
