Page 67 of Broken Pact

It’ll be the most exquisite ruination, and I’ll welcome it with open arms.

“It’s not fine. Someone put their hands on you, baby, and now they’re going to lose them, yeah?”

She startles, blinking those beautiful eyes of hers a few times. “What? Jasper, no. You can’t just casually talk about unhanding someone!”

Nothing about this is funny, but the sight of my girl shouting unhanding in this context makes the side of my mouth twitch.

I nod a few times. “Alright. I won’t talk about it.”

She places her hand on my shoulder, her palm warm against my skin. “Don’t do it, Jasper. Don’t risk it, okay? Not for me.”

I turn toward her arm and place a kiss along the inside of her wrist. “You let me worry about that, yeah?”

Her fingers twitch. “I . . .”

“Let me take care of you,” I practically beg.

“I don’t know how,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

She looks cracked open and vulnerable, and that prowling, gnawing beast inside of me grows larger and promises vengeance of its own.

“Just talk to me, Coraline. That’s it. I’ll take care of the rest.” With the back of my index finger, I brush her hair away from her face, getting a better look at her cheek. It’s swollen, a dark bruise already starting to form.

“I was stupid,” she says with a cry, looking over my shoulder and sniffing. “I—I provoked them. But I-I didn’t think. And then they?—”

I bring her focus back to me with my curved knuckle under her chin. Her big blue eyes look like the sky on a winter afternoon, clear and icy. “Who did this to you? Give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”

She shakes her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. “No, I-I don’t want you to have to do anything. That’s not why I came here.”

I link one hand with hers, squeezing it a little. “Why did you come here, to me?”

She looks at me, all wide-eyed and lips parted like she doesn’t know why she ended up at my door. She swipes her tongue along her bottom lip. “I, uh, I don’t know. I just got in my car and started driving. And I ended up here,” she murmurs the last couple words, like the admission is a confusing discovery. Her voice is barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

I place a small kiss along the side of her mouth. “I’m glad you’re here, baby. You can always come to me, yeah?” I tilt her head so my lips brush against hers as I say, “Stay here. I’m just gonna get the first aid kit.”

She nods, barely a movement, and I force myself to step back. I grab my kit from the bathroom, and I’m back at her side in thirty seconds. She hasn’t moved a single inch, still staring sort of vacantly at the action movie on my TV.

Her gaze snaps to mine when I pull out antiseptic wipes and ointment. I crouch down, our faces level, and gently clean the cut on her cheek.

“Ah.” She winces, sucking in a breath.

“Sorry, baby,” I whisper. “Almost done.” The sight of her in pain, the fear in her eyes—it’s like a knife twisting in my gut. I discard the garbage and crack an ice pack, pressing it gently to her cheek.

She hisses a breath at the coldness, covering my hand with hers. “Thank you.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, my voice low and rough.

She exhales this big sigh and looks toward the ceiling for a moment. “I can’t believe this happened. I’ve taken self-defense before, you know, but somehow, all of that information flew from my brain like it never even existed.” She shakes her head and looks at me. “These guys, they just came out of nowhere. Showed up outside my house, threatened me, and then I . . . I don’t know. I lashed out. It’s my fault—I provoked them, Jasper. And they—he—he didn’t like it. He hit me.” Her fingers ghost over her cheekbone.

My hand finds the side of her neck, and I use my thumb to tilt her face toward mine. “I need you to listen to me when I tell you that none of this is your fault. None of it. I don’t give a fuck what you said, there is no excuse for a man to put his hand on you. And baby? I will take an enormous amount of joy in teaching these motherfuckers this valuable life lesson.”

It takes a second, but eventually, a slow smirk tilts up the corner of her mouth. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“That can definitely be arranged. Tell me who it was.”

“I don’t even know. But they . . . they knew where I lived, Jasper.” She looks at me, her eyes imploring me to understand the meaning.

I don’t understand all of it, but I have a hunch I know exactly who paid my girl an unwelcome visit tonight. And come tomorrow, Falcone and his band of misfit motherfuckers are gonna regret ever darkening my girl’s door. Let alone marking her.

---