Page 112 of Velvet Corruption

But then he moved.

It was a twitch, barely more than a reflex. A jerk of his arm, fingers twitching toward something. I didn’t know what—I didn’t care.

The rage sharpened, focused, burning through me like a live wire.

I grabbed him by the collar, lifted his head, and slammed it back down.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Everything inside me screamed for more, screamed for certainty. My body knew nothing but this.

A fourth.

A fifth.

His body jerked, his breath coming out in a wet, gurgling choke.

I moved my fist back to punch him again—Ruby.

Her hand, small and steady, closing around my wrist.

“I think you’re done,” she said.

I wasn’t. I wanted to hit him again, to hear his bones crack one last time, to feel his blood against my hands.

But she was looking at me. Not afraid, not really. But watching.

I exhaled sharply, muscles screaming as I let go. My body wasn’t ready to stop, wasn’t ready to still, but I pulled back anyway, forcing air into my lungs.

The rage inside me flickered—not gone, not really—but shifting, unraveling at the edges.

His body twitched once, then nothing.

I was breathing hard. My arms shook, my body buzzing with too much, too much, too much.

“I think he’s dead.”

I blinked, chest heaving, mind fogging, suddenly aware of the tremor in my limbs, the sharpness of every breath.

Not one of Tristan’s…somebody else.

The guy from the parking lot.

I hadn’t done enough to scare him off.

The silence that followed was thick, pressing. My own breath was ragged, my pulse deafening in my ears. I stayed there for a second, kneeling over him, my hands curled into fists, blood—his, mine, didn’t matter—coating my skin.

I pushed back onto my heels, still straddling the body, my body vibrating with the force of what I’d just done. Slowly, I exhaled, flexing my fingers, my joints stiff.

My pulse pounded, a sharp, erratic beat. My ribs ached. My side burned. The copper scent of blood stuck in my throat.

Finally, I turned to look at her.

She stood on unsteady feet, one hand pressed against her throat. A bruise was already forming along her jawline, an angry red mark wrapping around her throat.