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I’m halfway to her when I take her in. And as my gaze locks on her, I take in the state of her. What that sick bastard did. I catalogue the bruises and marks on her throat, like she’s been strangled.

It takes a second, maybe less, to do that.

But it feels like forever. Like time has stopped.

Niko is a dead man, breathing. And when I get him…

I take one more step when something, a flicker of a shadow, makes me whirl around.

Niko. He rushes me, face an ugly mask of hate, gun out, but I kick it from his hand, my rage taking me over.

He swings at me, and the blow glances off my shoulder as I turn to block him. He’s strong, yes, but he’s indulged in the good life a little too much, relied on his men a little too much to keep up with skills he should.

Skills like defending himself.

Not that it’d be a fair fight, even if he had.

I’m bigger, stronger, nastier, and angrier. I slam my fist into his face, then the other, and he reels back, somehow righting himself, and he comes at me again.

I’ve time to pull my weapon.

But I don’t.

I want him to feel pain. The depths of what he put me through.

So this time I deliver a hard uppercut, then I grab him around the neck and, holding him close, I deliver short, nasty punches to his balls, his liver and kidneys, his stomach. Then, as I step back, I deliver a hard punch to his throat. Not enough to break his hyoid, but enough to make him feel like he’s dying.

He tries to breathe, but I beat him senseless in earnest now. And I snarl and growl words with each punch. “You take my son. You take my woman. You put hands on her.”

He falls to his knees, face bloody, but I kick him hard in the belly. Then I send him to his back with a kick to his chin. He groans and I lay my boot in the fury, giving me strength, stealing all reason.

I want him dead. I want him to suffer. I want this fucking bastard’s brains splattered everywhere. I slam a foot down on his ribs, not even enjoying the snap of them. I kick him in thehead, a cheekbone snapping. I stamp down on him with my heel, destroying his nose.

He flails feebly and I step on his arm and bring my other foot down in a hard stomp and crush his arm beneath my foot.

Niko’s a mess, a fucking mess. He’s wheezing with long pauses between each one, my own breath harsh and loud.

I kick the fuck a few more times. He lets out a horrible high-pitched sound, blood everywhere. But while I could keep him alive and in agony for fucking days, I’m not about to subject Erin to more of this.

I need to get her out of here.

He twitches.

Fuck him.

“You don’t deserve to even take another pain-filled breath, Niko.”

And then I pull out my gun and shoot the fucker in the head, killing him instantly.

Blood’s pounding through my ears, hot, wild, and there’s a sound, like a keening from the anger and adrenaline.

I drop and search the body for the key to free her.

When I find it, I turn and it’s her, not my anger, making that noise. Erin’s hysterical.

Fuck.

She’s going to think I’m a monster.