Page 26 of Rescuing Micah (Prey Security: Cyber Team #3)

That didn't mean she wasn't living her life like the champion that she was, but it meant those scars were always a part of her, they would remain with her until the day she died. He had not a single doubt that her brother’s death would bring her a level of peace she wouldn't readily admit to out loud for fear it would make her sound like a bad person.

But how could it?

Brother or not, Simon had done something unspeakably evil to her, and she was entitled to hate him for it.

Just like she was still entitled to love the little brother she’d once known before he decided to turn down a dark path.

“Who’s going to kill me? You?” Simon asked with a smug smirk.

There were still parts of the twelve-year-old boy Micah had first met visible in the man standing before him, similarities that had told him who the man Teresa was talking to was without anyone having to tell him.

Simon had changed, though, and not just in the normal way a person aged.

Not just in the tattoos, either, several of which he could see were gang-related.

It was the man’s eyes.

They were cold and hard. Heartless.

Without speaking a word, Micah merely tightened his grip on the other man’s arm. Smiling as he squeezed, and Simon’s face went redder and redder until he felt the bones crack, and Teresa’s brother cried out in pain.

A broken bone wasn't much in comparison to what Teresa had suffered, but it was something. A small offering to her that he hoped might show her how desperately sorry he was for the part he’d played in hurting her.

“Don’t remember me, do you?” he asked, holding Simon’s gaze as he pressed against the bones he’d just snapped.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you playing my sister’s protector?” Simon snarled.

“I'm the man who’s been in love with your sister since the day I first laid eyes on her.”

Recognition flickered in Simon’s eyes. “Micah Hart. The boyfriend who bailed.” A triumphant smile curled up the man’s lips, and he knew he’d scored a direct hit even though Micah made sure he didn't visibly react in any way.

“Stop it, Simon. You know you're not supposed to be here,” Teresa spoke up.

“Go back inside and wait with the doorman,” Micah told her, hating her being this close to her brother.

“Told the doorman to call the cops as soon as I realized something was wrong. They’re going to be here any moment, and they’re going to take Simon into custody for violating the restraining order. And for assault.”

“Didn't assault her, you assaulted me ,” Simon whined.

“Actually, you put your hands on her, it’s going to leave bruises.

That’s assault, and I'm merely defending her,” he said mildly.

Actually, he’d love to do a whole lot more defending, he was itching to take out some of the impotent rage boiling inside him—some toward Simon, but most of it directed at himself—by inflicting a few more wounds.

Maybe then Simon would get the message and finally leave his sister alone for good.

“You broke my arm,” Simon growled. Rage danced in the man’s brown eyes, a much darker shade than Teresa’s, but with the tight hold Micah maintained on his arm, Simon couldn’t move without causing himself more pain.

“Self-defense. Cops aren't going to care that I broke your arm looking out for your sister, who you were about to punch in the face while you’re here in violation of a restraining order.”

Something calculated replaced some of the fury in Simon’s expression. The man knew he’d lost, he was going to be arrested, and would spend some time in prison, but he wanted to get in whatever strikes he could now while he had the chance.

“She never let you touch her, did she?” Simon drawled.

Beside him, Teresa gasped, and it was instinct this time and not conscious thought that had Micah tightening the fingers wrapped around Simon’s broken bones.

He and Teresa hadn't had sex. She hadn't been ready back then, and he hadn't cared, as far as he’d been concerned, they’d had all the time in the world. Waiting for her had been easy because he’d always known she was his forever.

But it gutted him to be reminded that Teresa’s first time hadn't been voluntary. Her innocence had been ripped away from her.

It was all so unfair, and he hated that he’d been part of the whole mess.

Instead of being the rock that steadied her, gave her respite from the storm so she could find her footing again, he’d just been another rock to strike her when she was already down.

“When my friend pulled out and saw the blood, we all laughed. He said she was so tight he knew the second he sank into her that she was pure virgin. Paid me double for getting to be the first one to tap that. The others?—”

“Inside, Teresa. Now,” Micah barked.

“Micah, he’s not worth whatever you're going to do,” she said softly, and her much smaller hand lightly closed around his.

“He’s not, but you are. Inside. Please.”

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't leave, but then the fingers around his pressed lightly before withdrawing, and he heard the door whoosh closed, leaving him alone with Simon.

“You don’t know what I do, do you?” he asked, focusing the throbbing fury pulsing through his body with each beat of his heart.

It could consume him if he let it, but if he harnessed it the right way, he could possibly ensure Teresa never had to worry about her brother hurting her again, even if she chose not to keep him in her life.

“Don’t care what you do.”

“You should. Because whatever you think you know about violence is nothing compared to what I know. I was literally trained to learn how to inflict maximum damage with minimum effort.”

Doubt crept into the man’s expression, but he didn't back down, didn't break eye contact.

The first blow caught Simon completely by surprise.

Micah had the man’s broken arm twisted up behind his back, yanked high enough to pop his shoulder out of place, and shoved up against the wall in one smooth movement.

“I’m a Navy SEAL,” he murmured in Simon’s ear.

“I eat men like you for breakfast. You think you’re a big man because you and your friends outnumbered your sister that day?

Hurting someone who never did anything to you but love you and take care of you, that doesn’t make you big, it makes you small. Microscopic.”

Using pressure points to inflict pain, Micah smiled as Simon thrashed and cried beneath his hold. Whether it made him a bad person or not, he didn't care, because he was loving every pain-filled yelp falling from Simon’s lips. In a small way, he was righting the wrongs Teresa had suffered.

“You ever come near her again, and I will make you wish for death. Death that won't come until I decide that you've suffered enough. Understand?”

When the man didn't respond, he amped up the pain until Simon was literally sobbing and writhing, desperate to get away from the agony flooding his body but with nowhere to go.

“Understand?” he repeated.

“Y-yes.”

“Say it.”

“I-I un-understand,” the man babbled.

“I know how to make sure your body is never found, and honestly, who’s even going to care if you go missing?

Your family wants nothing to do with you.

You think your little gang friends are going to cry a river over your loss?

” Micah barked out a laugh. “No one cares about you, not anymore, not after what you did. The world will be a better place without you in it, so part of me almost hopes you come after her again, so I have an excuse to kill you. But that’s not what she wants.

Part of her still loves you, which is the only reason you’re still breathing right now.

But if you ever go near her again, that changes.

I will end you, and I won't feel an ounce of remorse for it. You touch her again, you die. It’s as simple as that. ”