Page 160 of Volatile Obsessions

Dead-center.

“Go on,” he laughed sardonically, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Do it.”

Growling, I pressed the tip deeper, my lip curled in a snarl.

I could’ve blown his brains to bits and spared the world from his revolting existence, but my finger twitched on the trigger.

Putting a bullet through his head would be too easy. Like Lux’s father, he deserved much worse.

Slow and painful.

So I rushed him instead.

Holstering my weapon back at my side, I finished him off with my bare hands, repeatedly throwing my fist in face, each time hard than the last. The most pathetic part of it all was how he didn’t even try to defend himself.

He just took it with a demented smile, until he was nothing but a bloodied, swollen mess.

Once he was down on the ground, I kicked him several times for good measure, relishing the sounds of bones cracking and howls of agony finally renting the air with each one.

He didn’t move when finally retreated, his blood staining my hands, spattered on my clothes. My chest heaved from exertion, demons stated from our feat.

And yet, I found myself pulling my pistol out once more, aiming it at him with a firm hand.

“You ever come near her again, a measly two-fucking-feet, and I’ll finish you off for good, you lying piece of shit. Stay the bloody hell away from her,” I advised, my voice ragged in tempo but deathly low in severity.

Green eyes, now barely visible behind swollen lids, dragged up to where I stood—and that’s when I pulled the trigger.

Bang!

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