Page 92 of Manacled Hearts

He doesn’t answer, but he tenses against me.

“That guy was about to shoot me from behind. She…” Madds trails off as he explains to Finnigan, and his hold relaxes once more. “I’m okay, Evie.”

The safety of him draws my shock to the surface and every bit of my body shakes all at once. I don’t realize my fingers are digging into his skin until I feel his touch on my back, rubbing soothingly.

“It’s okay, Evie darling, you’re safe.”

Then the tears come, the damn just at the edge of breaking, but only a few slip through the cracks. I can’t allow myself to break, not this hard. I can’t be this weak.

“You’re safe. I’m here.”

He holds me to him, ignoring the pain I’m probably causing with my sharp nails as I force myself to unload the adrenaline without bursting completely.

I’m okay. I’m okay.

It registers in my subconscious that the man I was hitting stopped moving at one point. Yet, I can’t bring myself to care that I might have killed him. I should. Right? There’s a strong chance I took a life, and it should feel a certain way.

It doesn’t.

It never has before.

Not the first time, only months after I became homeless, when a seedy guy accosted me on the street after my dinner shift was over. I lived and worked in the wrong side of town, I knew it was going to happen eventually. He wanted what I was not offering or willing to give. I was easy prey. But he didn’t expect the random slat of wood I found on the ground to be smashed in his guts. And I didn’t expect the smile that creeped on my lips at the satisfaction I got when he cursed in pain. I hit him until he gave up on me and ran away.

If only I could have done that when Frankie B took my sister.

Wait.

I pull my face away from the comfort of Finnigan’s chest and look around. “Where is he?! Where’s Frankie?”

“He’s gone,” Maddox grunts somewhere behind me. “He slid in his car and drove away when the last of his men was going down. I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”

He’s still out there, and he wants me. The thought brings a shudder back into my bones and Finnigan tightens his hold around me once again.

“We’re going home. Now.” His tone is sharp and low, pulling back to look at me, one hand possessive on the small of my back.

Then he confuses the pants out of me when he pulls his shirt out of his trousers, and brings the bottom of it to my face, wiping it.

“What the… what are you doing?!” If that doesn’t wake me out of my stupor, I don’t know what would do the job.

“Maya is in the car. I don’t want her to see you like this.”

“She’s here?” I try to break away, but his hold on my back keeps me grounded as he keeps swiping at my face.

“You don’t think I would have left her alone with June, don’t you? She needs to be kept safe, with us.”

Delicious warmth spills through my soul at his words, and I feel it deep in my belly. I can’t believe he would think of her, of us, like that. When he stops rubbing at my face, his action finally registers as I see his now dirty shirt—blood. A lot of it. Then I dare look down at the man I pummeled as I straddled him, and I fail to recognize any features on his face under all the blood.

Christ, what have I done?

“We’ll wash the rest of it at home. You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asks, and I give him a quick nod.

Once again, he tugs me against his chest, pressing me against him, like he wants me embedded in his soul. But that warmth leaves me too soon as he steps away and takes my hand instead.

Morri, Lulu, and Madds stand close by, curious looks on all their faces. Maddox raises an eyebrow, but Finnigan warns him off with a growl as he pulls me toward his car.

“Not a fucking word.”

His friend doesn’t respond, but Morri’s features look lighter, amused in a knowing kind of way, and a flush heats my cheeks. How inappropriate of me, considering I just punched a guy to death.

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