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All that happens in my peripheral. I have no idea whether Kato has control or not. I’m too focused on keeping Eriks from lowering his gun and putting a bullet in me this time.

Just like before, it feels as though the series of a few heartbeats lasts an hour, like we’re moving in slow motion.

When the front door swings open so hard the knob lodges in the drywall, I’m not sure whether to cry in relief or despair. I can’t take my eyes away from one of the assholes responsible for nearly ruining my life long enough to ascertain whether the newcomer is friend or foe.

When a rumbling voice roars a slew of threats and curses, my heart nearly leaps from my chest. I would know that voice in the middle of a crowd.

Brix is here. I have to assume Maddox is, too. I refuse to accept anything else.

A large body blurs past me, knocking Eriks away from me and nearly taking me down in the process.

I barely catch myself before I tumble on top of the two men. Madd is straddling Eriks’ shoulders, his arm flying forward over and over as he pummels Eriks’ already ruined nose, sending splatters of blood in the air to splash against Madd’s face, his throat, his exposed arms, even my legs.

While my husbands are focused on Eriks and Mikhail, I turn my attention to my parents.

Brix is holding my father in the air by his throat as my father’s face turns a mottled purple and he kicks his feet out while clawing at Brixton’s hands.

My mom…

Maybe these slow-motion moments aren’t the curse they felt at first, because I have enough clarity to realize she’s reaching for the back of my father’s pants, presumably for the gun.

Not today, bitch.

I lost my child. I lost four years of life with my husbands. I almost lost my life.

All because of this bitch.

“No!” I screech like a banshee as I lunge for her. She moves to the side, but not fast enough. We both tumble to the ground. She didn’t get the gun, and she’s a lot more adept at fighting than I gave her credit for…

But I’m younger, faster, and had to protect myself for four fucking years. Because of her.

While she grabs at my hair and scratches my face, hands, and arms, I draw my arm back and punch her. One hit and she’s stunned stupid for a second. That’s all I need, really.

I wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. Hard. She’s bucking and thrashing, trying to knock me off of her, but this fucking ends today.

This is not how I wanted her to die. I wanted her to suffer the way I had, I wanted her to feel pain and loss the way I had.

But dead is dead, and what better way than with my bare hands as she stares directly into my eyes?

Another gunshot echoes in the room, causing me to flinch a bit and roll my shoulders forward, but I don’t release my grip on my mom’s throat.

Maybe they haven’t killed my father yet and I’ll get the opportunity to do the honors.

Does that make me evil? A bad person?

Nah. Makes me a mother whose child was taken away before I ever had the chance to look into her eyes. It makes me a woman who was beaten so badly, I nearly died and took weeks for the injuries to heal.

It makes me a woman who refuses to let anyone, blood or not, fuck with the dream life I’m building with my husbands.

Rage builds and builds until my mom, the room, everything is washed in red. Hands still around her throat, I lift her andslam her head against the floor. Over and over and over. Each thud reminds me of a dying heartbeat, yet chips away at the pain I’ve been carrying.

I was alone for four years. Because of her.

I lost my child. Because of her.

I lost my loves. Because of her.

And now she wants to take my husbands away.