Page 51 of Fatal Vengeance

I buck wildly, throwing my fists into his stomach and ribs, but it doesn’t deter him one bit. His blow lands on my jaw, the next one on my fucking nose, breaking it with a sickening crack that sends blood spurting down my face. He doesn’t stop there, raining his fists down until I’m lightheaded and nauseous, barely holding onto my consciousness. I don't quit fighting, though, even as the pain overwhelms me. I throw my fists into any part of his body that I can reach, and I'm satisfied when I definitely hear a rib or two crack under my efforts.

He hisses in a sharp breath, but still doesn't lose the upper hand.

I hear more feet scuffing against the hardwood in the distance, and for one horrifying second, I think it’s more of this dude’s buddies coming in to get Prudence and Genevieve. I groan out a curse, fear and adrenaline bursting through me. I have to keep them safe. If it’s the one good thing I do for Prudence in my sorry fucking life. With renewed strength, I grab this guy’s shirt and yank his face down right as I jerk mine up, head-butting him with a feral, deadly growl slipping from me. It hurts like a fucking son of a bitch, stars bursting behind my eyes, but the resounding crack as his nose breaks too has me smiling like a manic.

I expect him to loosen his hold on my neck, maybe even stagger back from the pain, but this man must be a goddamn machine. All he does is grit his teeth, his manic eyes flashing down at me, making my smile drop right off my face.

“You’ve forced my hand, kid,” he rasps out, his other hand joining the first on my throat, pushing down harder and quickly depriving me of oxygen. “Shame you’re gonna die before I gut your whore. That’d be quite a sight for you to see.”

I claw at his wrists, his chest, his face, but nothing works and I’m growing weaker by the second. “I hope,” I start with a shaky wheeze. “They kill you… slowly.” It’s all I can manage to say while black dots dance in my vision. He doesn’t know who they are, but I do. Griffin and Creed. They’ll hunt this fucker down and make him pay for my death. They'll keep Prudence safe where I've failed.

“Asher, no!” Prudence cries out, her desperate voice breaking from somewhere nearby.

I jerk against the dickhead holding me down, my eyes bugging at the fact that she’s still in the cabin, and more importantly, in danger. Those footsteps I heard must have been the girls, and if I wasn't so weak right now, I'd have half a mind to tear into her ass for not running already.

“We have to go, come on,” Genevieve pleads with her sister. “He’ll be fine, okay? That guy wants you, not Asher, so we have to run.”

I don’t know if Prudence hears the lie in Genevieve’s voice, but I do. I will absolutely not be okay. I’m dizzy, oozing blood from the bullet hole in my arm, and struggling to keep my swelling eyes open enough to see my attacker. Death is swiftly coming for me, his inky black wings open and ready to engulf me.

At the last second, before the lights go out in my mind for good, I turn my head just enough to see Prudence from the corner of my eye. She’s sobbing and fighting against Genevieve, who’s trying with all her strength to pull Prudence toward the front door. Genevieve looks at me with her own tears rimming her frightened, dark hazel eyes, mouthing, I’m so sorry.

I nod as best as I can, trying to convey that it’s okay. None of this is her fault. Genevieve’s only job right now is getting her sister to safety, not trying to help me.

This is a willing sacrifice I’m giving for them.

I just have to keep this asshole busy long enough for the women to get the fuck out of here.

With the very last of my energy, I snarl as I turn and lift my head just enough to bite into this fucker's arm. He's still gripping my throat and giving me all his weight, but I do the worst I can even as my oxygen runs out, tearing through his shirt and skin until the coppery taste of blood bursts on my tongue.

He roars above me, jerking his arm back and then punching me right in the jaw. My head snaps to the side, and I'm out fucking cold.

32

Prudence

With strength I didn’t think I possessed, I rip myself out of my sister’s hold and rush forward, dropping to my knees and scooping up the gun on the ground. Genevieve shouts my name, running to my side, but she’s too late to drag me out of here.

I fire the gun despite my shaking hands, and in the blink of an eye, the man trying to kill Asher is dead. He jerks to the side from the force of the bullet, and then blood starts pouring out of the side of his neck where I’d shot him. I don’t have any experience with guns, and honestly, I was worried the safety might have been on, but fuck… I got lucky. I saved Asher’s life.

Didn’t I? Why isn’t he moving? Was I too late?

I’m stuck in a state of shock as I watch the hitman or whatever he was roll off of Asher, the gun still raised and aimed his way just in case. Genevieve breathes out a ragged breath, cupping my hands and lowering the gun until I let it slide from my hands and onto the floor, and then she goes to Asher while my mind is trying to catch up.

“Prudence, help me,” Genevieve begs desperately, and that’s all I need to blink back to myself and crawl forward. I reach Asher’s side right as my sister checks his pulse. “He’s alive,” she confirms. “He’s okay, thank god. Stay with him, I’m going to get something to staunch that bleeding.”

I nod mutely, staring down at Asher's pale, beaten face. He's already bruising, his lips split, his nose broken, and his eyes are swollen, but to me, he's… He's still beautiful. And the stupid asshole was about to die before I got to tell him as much.

I lean over him, cradling his head as gently as I can. "Asher," I murmur shakily, stroking my fingers over his swollen jaw. "Come back to me. I'm not done hating you yet. You have so much more work to do to get on my good side." He doesn't stir, and I think my heart stops. I keep stroking his face, cataloguing all the bruises already blooming under his skin. "Please, don't go. You don't get to just leave like this. You promised to do right by me, but this isn't the way. Please."

His brows furrow as a pained groan slips from his lips, and a moment later, his eyes flutter open wildly before they lock on me. He swallows roughly, lifting a hand and cupping my face, wincing from the movement. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. I saw the resignation in his eyes, the decision he'd made to die for me. There's nothing else to say, really. Not after knowing the sacrifice he'd make for me.

A tear slips down my cheek and lands on his parted lips, and he licks it away. My sister comes rushing back into the room while I'm trying to find the right words to say to him, and I lean back with a deep breath to let her patch him up.

Genevieve kneels on his other side, grimacing at the pool of blood she settles in. She sets some supplies down beside her and then says, "This is gonna hurt. Cowboy up, Asher." Then she lifts his arm and inspects the bullet wound while Asher hisses in agony. Genevieve rolls her eyes, setting his arm back down. "Oh relax. You didn't die, did you? And now you can say you've been shot and survived," she teases him, though her smile is weak, like she's faking her way through her shock.

"How's it look?" I ask hesitantly, clutching Asher's other hand without even realizing I had ever grabbed it. I'm squeezing the shit out of it without meaning to, and I don't want to hurt him, but when I try to let go, Asher tightens his grip on me.

"The bullet went straight through. Nothing to dig out, which is good because I'm not equipped for shit like this. I've got basic first aid training, but that's it," my sister explains, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and unscrewing the cap. "The best I can do is clean it and wrap it, but he's lost a lot of blood…" She trails off and looks up at me with worry shining in her eyes, but I shake my head.

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