Page 81 of Unchained

Leonetti glanced over his shoulder. His mouth twisted in a silent scream and he stumbled onto the ground, his knees breaking his fall.

Brooks slowed as he approached. Snagging the doctor by his collar, he yanked him around.

“Th-Thirty-six . . . Brooks. Please, don’t do—”

Whack!

Brooks jabbed his fist into Leonetti’s face, sending his glasses into the dirt. “You have the nerve to beg me? Did you listen to my cries when you tortured me?”

Whack!

He hit him again and again, until the man hung in his grip, barely conscious.

“How about when I pissed myself after killing that first innocent man you brought to test my skills?”

Whack!

“You’re not going to live to see another fucking day.” The vow trembled on his lips. So much pain. So many horrible flashbacks that would plague him for a lifetime.

He caught Leonetti’s throat in both his hands, constricting his windpipe. Leonetti gasped and flailed, clawing at Brooks’s forearms. The satisfaction that had taken over every cell of his being dissipated. Brooks let out a sob as he squeezed tighter. The action so insignificant compared to what Leonetti deserved.

He should be injected. Stripped naked and whipped. Water-tortured until he got hypothermia. He needed to suffer and experience every ounce of pain he’d inflicted on people tenfold. He—

“Brooks?”

He snapped his head up, his hands never breaking contact with Leonetti. Cam stood in the forest, her hands pressed to a tree as if holding herself up. Her gaze lowered to the doctor. With his enhanced vision, Brooks could see her swallow. The drug had made him forget his brother-in-law and nearly fucking kill him, but recognition assaulted him as he looked at Cam. It took the breath right from his lungs and assured him that he was overcoming the drug’s effects through pure discipline.

Scenes played in his mind like an old-school movie. The scent of her, warm and floral. Her fine-boned hands stroking his jaw and hair, her legs wrapped around him, her tinkling laugh. She inched closer, her hands knotted in front of her.

Dammit, she was scared of him.

He loosened his hands a touch. Leonetti sucked in a breath of air. The bastard didn’t deserve another breath, but dammit to hell and back, Cam didn’t need to see him murder someone in cold blood. If she hated him after this, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, wheezing, keeping his attention on her face. Whether she believed it or not, he had to say it for his own sake.

She nodded. Her breath labored, telling him she’d been running. Sirens screeched through the night—cops?

“That must be the police.” She fluttered up to him, staying far enough away that Leonetti’s grappling hands wouldn’t touch her.

She set a firm hand on his shoulder. “Hurry and finish.”

Leonetti stretched his fingers toward her. “No! Please, get h—”

Her words of approval filled him with triumph. She didn’t think he was a monster. She didn’t hate him. In one quick movement, Brooks cut off Leonetti’s breath and snapped his neck simultaneously. Leonetti’s bones turned to liquid as he slouched out of Brooks’s hands and landed on the ground, rustling the leaves as he went.

Cam’s slim, delicate arms looped around his bicep. Her lips pressed to his shoulder. The sirens got closer. He held his fingers to the side of his head as the screech echoed through his brain. Memories of the lab’s alarm slammed into his mind, reminding him of the times he’d thought he’d escaped. How freedom had teased his taste buds just before he was dragged back to hell, over and over. Moisture stuck to his lashes. He heaved a sigh, and a sob followed. He dropped to his knees and Cam came with him.

She linked her hands around his neck. “Oh, Brooks.”

His broken cries tore through his chest, ripping from the deepest gallows of pain. Tears raced down his cheeks before he could stop them or even latch on to the reason for the breakdown. “I’m a monster,” he said, the words desperate.

Her kisses rained on his cheeks as her hands held his jaw. “No, baby. You’re not.”

Footsteps crunched up behind him. He didn’t need to lift his head to know it was the guys. He pressed his knuckles into the dirt but couldn’t stand. Couldn’t pull himself together even to save his dignity.

“You did what was necessary to survive. You’re a fighter, Brooks.” She caught his hand and brought his knuckles to her lips. The same knuckles who’d killed numerous men. “Please, come back to me.”

He stared at her face. Her earnest expression made him straighten his spine. “I’m not going anywhere.” He caught her in his arms and stood. Holding her to his chest, her legs wrapped around his waist, he carried her out of the forest.

The demons inside him had been released. He could let go of the fear of who he was. Facing the authorities would be another story.

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