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He hits the bottom with a sickening thud.
I don’t waste a second, turning to look down the stairs as every cell in my body vibrates with rage. I note the knife had fallen from his hand and lays flat on one of the middle steps.
He’s groaning, barely moving, and I know I need to get him unconscious to give us a chance to call for help.
“Get up!” I snarl, my voice raw and shaking with fury. I drop the rod with a loud clang at the bottom of the stairs, yanking him up by the collar of his jacket as I drag him across the floor.
My fist slams into his jaw, my knee quickly following as it drives up into his groin, again and again, until he folds like a broken puppet.
The floorboards creak above me, followed by the soft patter of Lila’s feet on the stairs.
Knowing she’s left her hiding place fills me with even more determination. Iwillprotect her.Nothingis going to harm her. Especially not this miserable low-life.
Holding Chris by the collar of his jacket with one arm, my fist flies square into his cheek, his skin breaking from the force as a spew of saliva goes flying out his mouth.
I kick at his shins, trying to drop him to the ground, but he grabs onto my waist to stay upright as my fists fly into any part of him they can reach, trying to get him off me.
The sound of the doorknob rattling perks my ears up, but I don’t dare take my eyes off him. I only hope it’s Lila trying to get out.
Chapter 41
Lila
From the bedroom window, I catch the sweep of headlights turning into the drive – another car. My stomach plummets, a cold rush of dread flooding my veins. For a second, I can’t breathe.
A jagged bolt of energy slices through the fog in my chest.
I don’t stop to think – I have to warn Marcus.
If Chris isn’t alone, we don’t stand a chance, and at least if I can get downstairs, I can try to get my phone to call for help.
The knife lays discarded on the third step from the bottom, and I grab it tightly, my heart pounding.
The scene in the living room is fucking chaos. Chris is hunched over by the kitchen island, clinging to Marcus’s waist as Marcus punches and kicks with everything he’s got. The living room shutters hang wide open, shattered glass glittering like ice across the floor.
The front doorknob rattles – someone is trying to get in.
I sprint past Marcus and Chris who are now grappling on the floor, grab the key and fling open the French doors leading to the patio.
“Marcus! Get him out!” I yell, grabbing his attention.
He looks up, scrambles to his feet and hauls Chris out through the doors by his neck, just as someone slams into the front door hard enough to rattle it in its frame.
Chris screams as Marcus continues hammering him, fists and feet landing blow after blow, rage spilling from his lungs as he shouts.
“You come here. You follow us. You break into my girlfriend’s flat and destroy her things. You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit.”
And even in the middle of all this – my chest tightens when I hear him call me hisgirlfriend.
But I don’t have time to process it. My eyes lock on the front door as I stand on the edge of the patio, ready to run, when out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of the unopened wine bottles we bought on the kitchen counter.
Two weapons are better than one. And it may just save our lives.
I move quickly, grabbing it and smashing it against the edge of the kitchen island. Wine sprays everywhere, soaking me with red as glass explodes at my feet, but I jump back, gripping the bottleneck like a weapon.
Another crash – the front door bursts open andtwomen stumble in.
My blood turns to ice.