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Standing slowly, I braced myself against the rock and slap of waves, unable to take my eyes off Ethan.
How had this happened?
Why had Neri changed her mind?
He deserved to die.
I was prepared to do it—regardless of the consequences.
I tried to catch her attention through the window, but she stared resolutely ahead, pushing The Fluke toward the lights glittering on the shore in the distance.
My heart pounded with unfinished business.
How was I supposed to be okay with this?
This bastard had raped her.
He’d irrevocably broken a piece of her.
To let him live?
No.
Just...no.
She could hate me all she wanted.
She could curse me and call me names and never talk to me again, but this wasn’t how this ended. This wasn’t how I kept her safe or slayed her nightmares. This was me doing what needed to be done.
Tripping a little as a wave sent us higher than expected, I lurched toward Ethan.
His face shocked white. The can of Coke Neri had given him—that I supposed was symbolic if the bastard had drugged her that way—rolled away as Neri brought The Fluke into a graceful curve.
Every moment, Port Douglas came closer.
Every moment, my window of opportunity closed.
“No. Don’t touch me. Don’t—” Ethan threw up his bloody, misshapen hands as if to ward me off.
I merely fisted his ugly shirt and hauled him to his feet. He cried out as I pressed against his wounds. He trembled in my hold.
“Look, man...I get it.” He snivelled. “I did a bad thing. You taught me that. I’ve learned my lesson, okay? I know I fucked up. I promise I’ll never—”
“Shut up,” I hissed, pressing him against the railing and letting him get his balance. He wasn’t injured enough that he couldn’t stand. I doubted I’d broken anything too important, minus the missing digits.
This retribution was nothing compared to what he’d done, what he’d taken.
My hands balled as fresh rage poured through me. “You made the biggest mistake of your life touching her,” I seethed. “And the fact that you think you’ll walk away from that...” I grinned.
He gulped and looked at Neri skippering the boat. With raw, feral panic, he went to scream for help. To scream for help from the very same girl who’d no doubt screamed that word, over and over again, as he bound her, stripped her, took her.
That sickening red mist was back.
I embraced it.
Sank into it.
Primal savagery rushed up my throat, and I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Scream and I’ll gut you right here. You’ll slip on your innards as they splash at your motherfucking feet.”
