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He stumbles but doesn’t fall to the ground. He looks over his shoulder as he takes tentative steps away from us. His pace gradually picks up until he’s in an all-out sprint.
“How much time?” I ask, staring after my prey. I watch him until he disappears into the brush of the forest. I’m not too worried about it.
“Twenty-five seconds,” my uncle, Tyler, answers. “I swear this younger generation is slightly more crazy than us.” He chuckles, as do the rest of my uncles and my father.
The only one not laughing is Damon. “As long as you take care of him before I do,” he says.
I nod slowly.
“Five … four …” my father counts down. As soon as the word one passes through his lips, I take off in a run, bow and arrow in hand.
“Stay here,” I tell them over my shoulder. I won’t need them to take care of this piece of shit. He signed his fate the moment he decided it was a good fucking idea to go after Monique.
Now, he’s about to meet his brother in hell. I start off in the direction I watched him go. Eventually, I drop my eyes to the ground, searching out footprints and sights of broken twigs or branches.
His trail isn’t difficult to find at all. He obviously hasn’t spent much time in the woods at all. No idea how to cover his tracks. Great for me. Not so much for him.
When I pinpoint where he is, I turn away so that my back is to him. I get really quiet as if I’m searching for him. I want the son of a bitch to think he’s got the upper hand.
I hear the moment he starts to make his move.
“You son of a bi—”
He doesn’t even get the full comment out before I spin and release one of my arrows right into his stomach.
He stops abruptly, the branch in one of his hands halting halfway above his head. It drops to the ground with a thud.
His eyes go wide, and then drop to the arrow protruding out of his stomach.
I lower the bow and arrow before walking over to him. I don’t say anything as I yank the arrow out of his stomach. A silent scream wrenches from him and he falls to his knees.
My frown returns. “You could’ve at least made it a little more difficult.” Disappointment laces my tone.
He crumples the rest of the way to the ground. “Please,” he wheezes out.
“Please?” I crouch beside him. “Is that what you would’ve said if you’d succeeded in attacking Monique? If she hadn’t been able to defend herself, would you have given her the mercy you’re now begging for?”
Rhetorical questions I know the answer to. This bastard has a record of domestic violence. He has no problem attacking women.
“Please,” he begs some more. A trickle of blood forms at the corner of his mouth.
“Fuck you.” I give him one final look before telling him, “Give your father and brother my pleasantries.”
I lift the arrow up high and then send it plunging into his neck, ending him quickly. I’m done with this piece of shit.
“Is it done?” I hear a few beats later.
I glance over my shoulder to see Damon staring at me expectedly. He’s surrounded by the rest of the men in my family. I give him a nod.
He releases a breath. “Now you have my permission to marry my daughter.”
A smile curls the corners of my lips. “You know I was never asking, right?” Like I needed anyone’s permission to marry the woman who’s owned me since we were little kids.
My uncle, Josh, laughs and claps his best friend on the back. “Let’s go.”
The usual clean-up crew for this type of mess starts to do their thing. With this mess out of the way, my mind already starts to think about the best way to ask Monique to marry me.
The perfect way pops into my mind without having to give it too much thought.
