I’ve been too caught up in my own fucking guilt of not keeping her safe to realize. Of course, it’s him. This isn’t about just money. This is his way of getting back at me.

I look up at Erick in horror, unable to stop picturing the many ways men like Kirk take their revenge.

“Get the car ready,” I bark, but I’m already halfway out the door, my fists clenched at my sides. Every fiber of my being is screaming for me to run, to tear that place apart with my bare hands.

The drive to the auction house feels like an eternity, each minute stretching out, torturing me with the thought of what they might be doing to her. My heart races, and I’m barely holding myself together. If I’m too late… no, I can’t think like that. Iwon’tbe too late.

When we arrive, the sight of that fucking building sends a red haze over my vision. I don’t bother with subtlety; I barrel through the entrance, ignoring the stunned expressions of the people milling about. I’ve got one target, and I’m not leaving without her.

Inside, the auction is already underway. My blood turns cold as I see her—Alice, on the stage, in a red see-through dress like that night only she looks even more afraid now.

Kirk is standing in the position of the auctioneer with a smirk that makes my hands twitch. I can’t wait for the satisfaction of breaking his face.

I can’t see straight. Rage is blinding, all-consuming, and I lose control.

“You fucking bastard!”

My voice booms through the room, and heads turn toward me, but I don’t care. Kirk’s smirk fades as I charge forward, my eyes locked on him.

Kirk backs up, calling for his guards, “What the hell are you guys waiting for? Get him!”

The first guard moves toward me, but I’m faster. I slam my fist into his jaw, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone before he drops to the floor. The second one comes at me with a baton, but I grab his arm and twist, forcing him to the ground.

I feel like I’m possessed. The anger running through my blood is ten times worse than it was a few minutes ago. And it was already bad back then.

How dare he parade my girl in front of all these people? How dare he take what’smine?

Kirk finally has the sense to look afraid as I approach him, but it’s too late. My fist connects with his face before he can utter a single word, and I keep swinging. One punch, then another, until he’s crumpled on the floor, bleeding and gasping for air. Yet, I keep going. Hitting him over and over again.

“Damon!”

Alice’s voice pulls me out of what feels like a lucid dream and I stop. I grab his bloody shirt and pull him up, barely able to contain the violent rage clawing at my insides.

“You’re done,” I growl through gritted teeth. “I’m going to destroy you and everything you’ve ever built.”

Though his face is a bloody mess, Kirk still tries to plead with me, “I can make you rich. We can sell the whore – “

I don’t give him a chance to say another word before landing one last punch, knocking him out cold. I want to rip him apart but instead my eyes find Alice, and in an instant, I’m by her side. I cup her face in my hand.

“Are you okay?”

Relief washes over her face, and she nods. She’s trembling, and without hesitation, I scoop her up into my arms, holding her as close as I can.

“You’re safe,” I murmur, cradling her against my chest as I carry her out of that hellhole. “I’ve got you, Alice. I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything, just buries her face in my shoulder, her hands clutching the fabric of my shirt. I feel her tears soaking through, and it only makes me hold her tighter.

As soon as we get home, I kick the front door open, still holding her close in my arms.

She’s light, fragile in a way that reminds me it’s my duty to protect her. And that’s why the weight of what almost happened tonight is so overwhelming. I nearly lost her.

I carry her straight to the bathroom.

I need to clean away the filth of that place, to reassure myself that she’s really here, safe and unmarred.

I push open the door with my shoulder and set her down on the marble countertop. Her eyes are wide, searching my face, as if trying to understand the storm inside me.

“This wasn’t your fault.”