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“Say goodbye to the Olympics, bitch.” He’s smiling broadly, the full evil of him out and proud. “This should make you fall in line.”
His eyes shine with crazed sadism as he tightens his hold even further and adds pressure.
One second he’s on me, the next he’s gone. He’s thrown across the room and his body crashes loudly into the nearby wall.
I blink in the direction of where he stood, my brain unable to process what just happened.
Tristan appears in his place. His large body looms over the scene, dwarfing me against the wall. His face is contorted in a terrifying rictus, the expression stamped on his features so darkly twisted it would scare the casual observer.
It nearly crushes me with relief.
Here he is, my very own avenging angel.
Come to save me.
???
Chapter 28
Tristan
When I heard screaming coming from inside the women’s locker room, I ran in without a second thought.
But I never —never— expected to run in there and see Nera pinned up against the wall.
Never expected to see her entire body hidden behind the man holding her hostage, her arms thrashing against him to try and get him off.
If I live thirty lifetimes, I know it still won’t be enough time to find the right words to describe the emotion that mangles my heart and crushes my windpipe when I find her trapped and in danger.
I short circuit for half a heartbeat.
I’m kicked back to life like someone uses a defibrillator on me when she screams again.
Raw fear slams into me, combined with fury and an animalistic need to rip this soon to be dead man’s throat out with my bare heads.
She looks so small and vulnerable and this piece of shit has his hands on her.
I black out. I rip Rex off her and throw him aside with strength I didn’t know I possessed, finally laying eyes on her.
She’s huddled against the wall, looking at Rex’s prone form. Shock freezes her in place except for the way her body shakes. Her arms wrap protectively around herself as she stares unseeingly back at me.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
My eyes zero in on the way her sleeve is unnaturally positioned on her wrist. Halfway up her forearm like he had his hand on her bare flash. I couldn’t see what he was doing when I walked in, just that he had her pinned. That in itself was enough to piss me off, but now I really take in the state of her.
He groans in the background but I barely hear him over the sound of the ringing in my ears as I walk up to her and gently lift her wrist.
The skin is mottled and beginning to bruise.
I frown and my eyes lift to her face. To the terrified look stamped on her features. To the deep red mark marring her cheek. To the blossoming pink line around her neck.
The horror of what I just walked in on slowly sinks in as I stare at her assaulted face. Images of her bruised and hurt intercut with very similar memories of my mother. They flash through my mind at blinding speed.
The ringing gets louder, my vision tunneling in dangerously on her.
“Did he fucking hit you?”
My voice is unrecognizable and she flinches. I want to be able to comfort her right now, but I can’t. I sound completely demented, my tone crazed, and it’s reflective of the tenuous hold I currently have on my sanity. I’m barely managing to hold myself back from the violent outburst threatening to erupt out of me. I’m about to snap.
