Page 126 of Cruel Dominion

“Nice gun,” Josh slurred, and I blinked, finding the double image of Josh holding my Beretta, twisting it this way and that before turning it to aim at me.

He leaned back, staggering a step, fighting for balance. He couldn’t seem to keep his arm from swaying in messy lopsided circles.

“Josh, please,” Anna begged, her voice breaking. “You don’t have to do this.”

He grunted in frustration and found his balance, steadying the weapon, his finger on the trigger.

“Sorry, man, you really shouldn’t have come here.”

Anna screamed.

Anna.

She was behind Josh, throwing her chains around his neck.

I was up, moving, falling, up again, moving.

Josh gasped for air and spun wildly, but she clung to his back like a fucking koala. His face turned purple as he struggled to breathe and the double image merged back to one.

He threw himself back, slammed her into the wall, hard enough that she lost her grip and gasped, slumping to the floor.

I bent to scoop the rusted pipe from the floor, advancing on him with an animal sound in my throat. His skull made a crunching sound as it caved in under the metal.

He went down, the gun clattered away.

And then I was on him, seeing red, seeing black.

Seeing nothing but the violent rise of the pipe over and over again in my hands as I smashed his fucking brains all over the floor.

I came back to myself with the feel of his blood on my face and an icy cold climbing down my spine like a winter frost.

The soft sound of Anna crying reached me through the ringing in my ears.

Anna.

I rushed over to her, dropping the pipe, holding her face in my hands. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Her eyes wide with horror.

Her still manacled hands clung to my jacket sleeves as she shook like a fucking leaf in my arms. “I’m sorry,” I said, not recognizing my own voice, the wobble in it as something burned in my eyes. “Anna, I’m so sorry.”

I pulled her into my chest, wrapping myself around her, shielding her. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should’ve been there.”

My little siren’s body wracked with the force of her tears as she cried into me.

Pulling her back enough to look into her eyes, I scanned her face, her neck, the dried blood on her chest. “Are you hurt?”

“My wrist,” she sniffed. “I think it’s broken.”

“Did he…”

She swallowed hard and her face broke. “He…”

Oh god.

My hands shook.

There was a burning in my chest.

“He t-tried,” she managed between hiccupping gasps. “I—s-s-stopped him.”

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