Page 14 of Swallow

“The fuck?—”

I slammed my palm down on the table. “Shut up,” I hissed, keeping my voice low enough that the few other patrons in the bar didn’t take notice.

His mouth snapped shut, his shoulders stiffening.

“Take a good look at me,” I told him, my tone steady, controlled. “Because this is the last conversation we’ll ever have.”

He shifted in his seat, glancing toward the bartender like he was deciding whether or not to make a scene. I leaned in just enough to get his fucking attention.

“You move,” I murmured, “and I’ll break your fucking legs under this table.”

His throat bobbed. I could see the moment it clicked, and he sobered, knowing I wasn’t fucking around. His fingers clenched around his glass.

“You don’t know who I am, but I know all I need to know about you.” My arm struck out before he could blink, and I grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, slamming his face into the table. The crack of his nose breaking was lost under his choked yell.

That drew a hell of a lot of attention, but the patrons were drunk, sleazy, and most of them just watched as they finished their drinks before slowly getting up and leaving. They didn’t want any part of this.

I let him slump back, blood dripping onto the wooden surface from his face, his hands shaking. He cupped his nose, groaning, “Jesus Christ. You’re fuckin’ crazy?—”

“I’m more than crazy,” I interrupted, cracking my knuckles. “You hurt the woman I care deeply for, and that makes me the most dangerous motherfucker you’ll ever come across.”

“W-What? What are you talking about?” Brady glanced around again, but no one was going to help. This was a shitty part of the Podunk town he lived in, in a scummy-ass bar. They’d rather look the other way than get involved in shit that had nothing to do with them.

“And I know exactly what kind of man you are,” I said, my voice like steel. “You don’t hit with your fists. You use words. Youbreak people down until they think they need you, and then you make sure they’re too scared to leave.”

He stilled. “Th-This is aboutEvie?”

Funny he knew exactly who I was talking about.

Because he knew exactly what he’d been doing to her.

I felt possessiveness curl in my gut, and before I could stop myself, I slapped him like the little bitch he was. I smiled, but it was cold and mirthless. “But you didn’t breakher. She was strong enough to leave your sorry ass. And now I’m here to make damn sure she has the life she deserves.”

His breathing turned ragged, his pupils blown wide. “She’s a fuckin’ bit?—”

I grabbed his wrist and twisted it before he could finish calling her something I knew in my soul that she wasn’t. Brady let out a strangled cry as I gripped his pinky, turned it sideways, and pulled until the bone gave way with a satisfying pop.

He howled, the jukebox music louder as it filled the bar, thanks to the owner cranking that shit up.

“Wrong thing to say,” I murmured.

Brady’s chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, pain-wracked and struggling.

I stood and moved to the other side of the booth, to sit on the bench right beside him, then leaned in, pressing my forearm against his throat just enough to make him sweat and hard for him to breathe. “You’re going to disappear,” I promised, and he choked out a sound, his eyes wide. “I’m not gonna kill you—not unless you give me a reason to. But you’re going to pretend Evie never existed in your life.” My voice dropped lower, becoming lethal. “Because if you so much as breathe in her direction, I’ll make sure your body is never fucking found.”

I added more pressure to his throat, and he whimpered. I let the silence settle around us, let my words sink in, until he finallygave a shaky nod. I eased up with the pressure of my forearm so he could speak.

“I swear,” he croaked. “I don't know who she is.”

I studied him for a long moment, weighing whether I believed him or not. Then I let him go, shoving him back against the booth so hard the whole thing shook from the force. He sagged, cradling his broken finger, as blood still trickled from his nose.

I leaned in but didn't touch him. “I’m feeling generous today. This is me showing mercy to a piece of shit who doesn’t fucking deserve anything,” I muttered, standing up.

I walked out of the bar and didn’t look back.

I just wanted to—needed to—get back to Evie.

10

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