Page 140 of Guarded Knight

My fist cracks his jaw. Blood sprays into the dust beneath us. He tries to roll, gasping, flailing for leverage, but I bear down on his throat with my forearm, smashing his head against the floor.

“You think you can touch her?” I growl, rage low and lethal in my throat. “You think you get to fucking breathe after this?”

He rasps something—a plea, a curse, I don’t care. I don’t want this motherfucker to ever speak again.

I punch him mercilessly, my fists breaking bone until his blood stains the floor.

“You touched her,” I say through gritted teeth.

He coughs, teeth pink with blood. “She… she needed me?—”

Wrong answer.

“You lay your hands on her…” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You die.”

I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze. I’m out of control; I want this man dead so hard I’m not sure if I’m running on instinct or logic. I let in just enough air so he suffers, so he can feel it happening slowly…

And then I see her—Lara, glassy-eyed, scissors raised, ready to strike again. If I keep going, I’ll lose myself, and she’ll lose me, too.

I need to forget this son of a bitch and get her to a hospital.

That’s what matters. The longer I keep her here, the worse this attack could be, and showing this man his maker isn’t worth losing her.

This is our second chance, and I’m not going to lose it. Even to rid this world of a monster like Trent.

I shove him by the forehead so the back of his head hits the hard floor. He’s bleeding from all his limbs.

I turn to Lara. She’s all that matters now, and I know how fast CF can push her downhill.

“We need to get you to a doctor.” I slide my arm around her waist and she tumbles into my arms.

Anton, unbothered by me beating the shit out of this man, thankfully took the moment to call in backup.

He hangs up his cell. “Cops will be here in ten.” He bends over to lift and prop Trent up again to a seated position, then trains his gun on him. “An ambulance is coming, too.”

Lara’s lungs gurgle beneath my hold, and it scares the hell out of me, but she smiles at Anton and cracks a joke.

“I don’t need a ride. I got a laundry truck outside with plenty of gas.”

“Pzzt,” Anton softens for her. “Remind me not to mess with you.”

She’s shaking in my hold, shock overcoming her small frame. She still grips the scissors like she’s not sure it’s over. Like if she lets go of them, she might fall apart.

The concrete must be freezing under her feet. The air in here is too sharp and dirty for lungs like hers.

I gather her up in my arms to cradle her, pull her in tighter, shelter her with everything I have. I place my forehead on hers, and my voice frays on the words.

“It’s over.”

The scissors clatter to the floor. Her fingers fist into my shirt, and she cries into my chest. The warmth and heat of her tears bloom over my heart and I succumb to the moment, too.

I almost lost her.

One hot, sharp tear makes its way down my cheek. The second I’ve ever shed, the first was when my mother died.

But I don’t wipe it away. I don’t hide any of it. I bury my face into the crook of her neck and breathe her in like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the world.

“I thought I lost you,” I choke.