Page 29 of Sunrise Malice

Anger flares so hot and bright I can barely stand it.

“Pack your things. The faster, the better.”

I walk out of her room. Her father’s getting himself to his feet, leaning on the wall to do it. I grab him by the hair and hit him hard once in the stomach, doubling him over, before dragging him stumbling and staggering to the stairs. He nearly falls as I take him down, and when we reach the bottom, I hit him a second time in the ribs, right where that ugly bruise mottled Brianne’s beautiful pale skin. I shove him into his chair and he sits there, groaning, drunk, pathetic.

He’s been abusing my wife. No wonder she was willing to marry me. A husband, even a stranger, is better than getting hit by a drunk asshole father. Brianne clicks into focus for me: her defensiveness, her stubborn attitude, her pride. She must hate that I caught her unaware like that and found out her secret. I bet she was planning to keep her clothes on around me until the bruises faded away and healed, and then I might never have found out.

“You will never speak to my wife again.” I lean down and stare into her father’s face. I see my Grandpère in him, a weak and malicious thing, and I want to kill him. “Do you understand me?”

“Please, it’s not what you think. I’m just weak, I’m a weak man?—”

I hit him. I hit him again. His nose cracks under my fist. Blood gushes from his mouth. “If you say anything butyes siragain, I will go against your daughter’s wishes, and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he moans.

I hit him a third time, just because I despise him so much and want to make him suffer. He whimpers, curling in on himself, the worthless piece of trash.

“You will never speak to her again. You will never see her again. As far as you’re concerned, Brianne is no longer your daughter. She is my wife now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispers.

“If you ever contact her, I will kill you slowly. I will make you suffer for a very long time before you die. If you so much as speak her name and I hear about it, I will come here, and you will wish I hadn’t. You will beg to die, and you will still suffer. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” He’s sobbing around his wound. Blood stains his armchair and drips down onto the pile of beer cans next to him.

I drive my fist into his guts then wrap a hand around his throat. I squeeze, shoving him back, until he starts to gag and choke. His eyes go wide, turning pink as vessels break, and all I have to do is hold a little longer. His expression will dim, his body will go limp, and he’ll be gone, gone forever, a fate he more than deserves.

“Julien.”

I look over my shoulder. Brianne’s standing at the foot of the stairs with a suitcase at her side.

She looks so fucking beautiful in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She’s not afraid, and she should be.

I release her father. He gasps for air, clawing at himself and cringing away from me. I turn my back on him and walk to my wife, every inch of my body yearning to finish her abuser off.

Instead, I offer her my arm.

“You’ll live with me now,” I say softly.

“What happened to it’s safer here?” Her lips quirk.

“I changed my mind.”

“Is that why you showed up? You couldn’t wait to see me again?”

“Something like that.”

She shakes her head and glances past me. Her father’s wheezing in the fetal position. There’s no pity in her eyes, but there’s also no anger.

She should hate him, but she only looks exhausted.

“Let’s go,” she says.

I take her bag and lead her to the car.

Chapter 13

Brianne

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