Page 119 of Ricochet

I slowly approach behind him and place my hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

He continues puking until he’s got nothing left, coughing it all up. When he’s finished, he stays like that for a while, his body shaking.

“Callum, talk to me. Please.”

Somehow, I keep my voice calm and quiet for his sake. But I’m seriously freaking the fuck out over here, terrified that what I’m thinking could be true.

If it is, the walls of that fucking bar are about to be bathed in blood.

Standing straight, he wipes his mouth with the long sleeve of his shirt. He sniffs and turns to me. The glow from the single bulb over the bar’s backdoor is dim, but it’s enough to see the greenish hue in his face.

When he speaks, his voice is raw and wrecked. “It wasn’t just Lewis.”

The fucking world comes caving in.

Everything turns black.

“He had friends.” Callum’s chin trembles as he glances away. “Sometimes they’d wear masks or put a blindfold on me. The times they didn’t, it was like…I was conditioned not to see them. I never remembered their faces.”

Callum isn’t the only one shaking now. I’m vibrating with the potential energy of violence and murder.

His gaze meets mine again, red and wet. His voice catches on a sob. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

And just like that, some of that energy fades away. The black at the edges of my vision turns to gray. I don’t always have my priorities straight, but when it comes to Callum, I have to. I have to know he’s okay before giving into anything else.

“Come here,” I say, stepping forward and wrapping my hand around the back of his neck to pull him to me. I hold him tight as he wraps his arms around me, fisting my shirt, clinging to me.

I’m not upset with him for keeping it from me. If he wasn’t ready to tell me, then he wasn’t ready.

He’s not crying, but his body is still trembling in my arms, his breaths shaky. I give him a couple minutes as I simply holdhim, hoping to stave off any possibility of an impending panic attack.

As he seems to calm after a while, my rage returns to me.

I was wrong when I thought there was no one left to kill for him. Now that I know there is, my beast has never fought harder to claw its way out of its cage, not even when Eric broke into my apartment. This is different. This is closer to how I felt the night my sister was attacked. Except worse.

Every muscle in my body is taut, stretched to the limit.

I want to rip out someone’s heart.

Before I can squeeze the back of Callum’s neck too hard, I ease my hold on him. He tilts back so we’re face to face, but he keeps his grip on my shirt.

“I need you to tell me something now.” There’s an echo to my voice, like it’s both the protector and the beast. I wonder if Callum can hear it too.

He swallows.

“Coach?”

His chest rises with a slow, deep, shuddering breath. His brows dip even lower. He nods.

Time to rip out a heart.

I crush my mouth to his. I don’t give a fuck what he was doing a few minutes ago, but it’s only a quick enough kiss for me to grab his arms and pull them away from me.

Spinning around, I march back to the door of the bar.

“Stone!”

Callum catches up, stepping in front of me with both hands on my chest. However, all that potential energy has turned kinetic, and I don’t stop. He walks backwards as I move forward, like I’m ready to barrel right through him. He’s a blur. The only thing that’s clear is what’s going to happen on the other side of that door.

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