Page 212 of Quinlan

But I make time for her. I’ll always make the fucking time for her.

I stab my knee into Joseph’s cracked ribs, keeping him in place. As I look over my shoulder, I half-expect to be met with disappointment in Quinlan’s gray eyes. Fear of the animal I’m transforming into before her. Her hands clasping Damien and Liam’s, begging them to protect her.

I’ve never been so wrong in my life.

Our unhinged, wild woman smiles. Her smile is huge. No one’s comforting her. The three of them are there, their gazes dark and approving.

Quinlan gives me the thumbs up. Blows me a kiss. “You’ve got this, baby.”

I lift my hand just in time to catch her air kiss. With a somber expression, I press it to my cock.I love you, I mouth.

“What in God’s name is this, Roman?” Joseph reminds me he’s still alive. Still well enough to talk. “Is this what you’ve been up to? Dating a psycho bit—”

The derogatory name dies a violent death on his lips. The next punch I administer knocks out two of Joseph’s front teeth. They graze my knuckles as they fly out of his mouth.

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”Crack. More blood and half a tooth fly out of Joseph’s mouth. “I warned you, not a fucking word about Quinlan.” The next five blows knock him unconscious. I sink my knee deeper into his ribs, shaking his head until his eyes flutter open. “You’re not dealing with her. You’re dealing with me.”

“With us.” I hear Damien.

“Rome will kill you,” Liam adds. “Then we’ll hunt you all the way down to hell.”

My brothers.

Elaine’s howling now. Her voice is soaked in what I can only imagine is blood. Anne must have hit an artery.

My heart bursts with pride.

“Stop,” Joseph whispers, blood sputtering on his chin. “Stop, Roman.”

“I told you I hate that name.”

I press Joseph’s cheek to the floor, connecting a fist to his ear. His scream is—what a goddamn irony—ear piercing. I repeat the motion, coaxing more agonized cries out of him.

“You, I feel nothing for you.”

My knuckles are painted red. My bloodandhis. Finally.

Words race to the surface, but each of them is lodged in my throat. A long list of accusations I want him to hear in his final moments. Things he’s ought to apologize for.

They stay there.

Knowing this fucker, it’ll go right over his head. He’ll never experience remorse. His apologies will never be genuine.

For the slightest chance that his last words will terrorize Anne, that he’ll mock her for the pain she had to endure, I shut up.

I obliterate Joseph’s face.

Nose, eye sockets, jaw.

These are for Anne’s protruding ribs that gave me nightmares for years.

I slam my fist to his throat. Don’t let up. Never let up.

Crack. This one went into his temple. It was for Anne’s tears. For each and every one of them.

The hint of a tremor races through my bicep at the excessive force.

I don’t stop, because—

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