Page 53 of Protector

Cry.

Cry.

Cry.

“No!” I roared, bucking my head back until I broke the contact between us. In the half a second it took for Manny to realize there was a problem, I’d freed the boning knife from my corset and pressed the tip of the blade against his throat.

“The fuck?”

I wanted to scream my name into his face and see the recognition in his eyes before I tore apart his flesh and reminded him of what he’d stolen from me.

My body.

My child.

My husband.

Grief expanded like a lump in my throat, preventing my words from escaping; but I hoped he saw the hatred in my eyes as I sank the blade into the soft flesh underneath his jaw.

Just like countless times before with beef and poultry, I made my cut, but my hand placement was all wrong, and I ended up dragging the knife backward across his throat.

As I did, blood began to flow from the wound; nothing like my experience with cutting up a whole chicken. By the time I realized I hadn’t gone deep enough, Manny’s hand was already latching onto my wrist. I had one opportunity, and I’d blown it.

Blood trailed down the blade and over the fist I had clenched around the handle, shocking me with its warmth. The metallic stench flooded my nostrils just as a drop fell onto my thigh, spreading out like fingers. Agony stole the breath from my lungs, and I no longer saw his blood.

I saw my own.

“You fucking cunt,” he roared in my face.

I barely heard him over the pounding in my head. The back of his hand connected with my cheek, sending me sprawling onto the carpet.

The pain didn’t even register.

All of the ugliness I’d tried to keep hidden surfaced; and I felt every bit of it. I watched in horror as the wounds reappeared on my body and the last piece of Jamie spilled out from between my legs.

I clawed at my throat and wheezed through a shallow breath while Manny circled me, like a lion going in for the kill.

He snagged my dress from the floor and held it to the wound on his throat before demanding, “Who sent you?”

When I stayed silent, he went for my hair, yanking the wig so forcefully that I came up off the carpet before it released from my scalp.

“Holy fuck, Ma. You gotta be the dumbest bitch alive. Needed another taste, huh? I’m gonna get another go at your ass, and then—”

He latched onto my real hair and began tugging until I was back on my feet beside him. “I’m gonna make you watch as I fuck your girl bloody before slitting her throat. And, unlike you, I know how to work a blade. Nod if you understand.”

As he jerked my hair violently, making my head bob up and down like a marionette, something inside of me snapped.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, hearing Tony’s voice loud and clear. I brought my hands up to cover Manny’s and instinctively drove the heel of my foot into the side of his knee. He let out a small gasp of surprise before releasing me.

Time seemed to slow, and I reopened my eyes just as he began pulling away from me.

All he needed was one good hit to regain the upper hand. One blow to the side of my head, and it wouldn’t matter how much training I had.

I slipped my right arm around his and covered his hand, effectively caging him under my armpit, before bringing my left hand up to latch onto his forearm.

Knowing it was my last chance to save my family, I turned suddenly and dropped into a squat, forcing his arm across my body. Keeping both of my hands on his wrist, I used my weight against him and pressed down on his elbow, straining the joints and ligaments until he groaned in pain and began struggling to break free.

I’d never gone beyond a person’s pain threshold before. Typically, they would’ve tapped my leg, and that would’ve been the end of it. This wasn’t a game, though. If I released my grip now, Manny would fulfill every one of his warped promises.

---