Page 21 of Primal

CHAPTER 17

ZYRAN

I stood around and watched for way too long. I wanted to see what would happen next, how far it would go. Clearly, this prick wanted something from her that she wasn’t willing to give. A part of me hopes it’s because she only wanted to do it with me, but that’s not the point right now.

I kept a good distance as I followed them through the club. Not one person noticed what the fuck was happening, not even Kiara’s drunken friend, who was off in a corner, dry humping some tool. No one helped my butterfly when she clearly needed it, and that set me off even more.

The last straw was him pushing her to the floor.

Just before the restroom door falls closed, I reach in and grab the back of his shirt, yanking him back into the shadowy hallway. I really hope my butterfly doesn’t come out to see what’s happening, because I don’t want her to witness this side of me—the side that will kill for her.

I throw the bastard into the wall and land a punch to his gut. We’re about the same height—six feet and five inches—but I have more muscle than he does. Not too much, though, because I have to be able to squeeze into tight spaces to watch my butterfly.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” he grunts out, trying to stand up and look at me, but I keep punching him in his stomach until he falls to the concrete floor in pain. I grip him by the collar of his shirt and hoist him to his feet again, dragging him to the exit door. Once we’re outside, in the back alley, I pull a knife out of my boot and shove it deep into his torso. He whimpers pathetically as blood starts to pour out of him and onto the ground between us.

“My problem, man,” I snarl, twisting the knife even deeper, “is that you touched my girl.”

When he falls to the ground, I straddle him and hold the tip of my knife to his throat.

“She’s mine. No one touches what’s mine.”

His eyes widen when I slash his throat, then they stare up at me blankly.

Lifelessly.

CHAPTER 18

KIARA

I lay on the piss-stained floor of the restroom with my eyes closed, praying Malcolm doesn’t come back.

What the hell just happened? Did security finally notice what was happening between us and decide to intervene?

Pushing myself up, I walk on wobbly legs to the door and press my ear against it, trying to hear what’s going on on the other side. The music is so loud, though, that I can’t hear anything.

What am I supposed to do? Should I call Yolanda?

No, that might just put her in danger.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly open the door and peer out into the darkened hall. Malcolm is nowhere to be found.

Where the hell did he go?

It doesn’t matter now. I just have to get out of here.

I run out of the bathroom and back to the rest of the club. My eyes hurriedly scan the dance floor for my friend, but I can’t find her in the sea of writhing bodies. I pull my phone out of my pocket to text her, but I see she’s already beat me to it.

Got a ride with Ahmad. Don’t be mad. Call me tomorrow. Love you! Have fun tonight!

I’m not mad, I’m worried. The text was sent ten minutes ago, which means they must have left when I was dancing with Malcolm.

If Ahmad is anything like his friend, then Yolanda’s going to be taken advantage of. My heart races in my chest.

Did he take you home?

“Please respond, Yolanda,” I whisper.

His place

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