Page 165 of Deacon

Rage floods my veins. He took my wife and my baby.

Time to pay up.

One-handed, I grip the door and rip it to the side, shattering the hinges. The interior door hits the wall so hard, the knob sinks into the drywall. I step inside, just in time to see Ryland come around the corner with his gun raised.

I freeze for a beat.

There’s a coat rack to my left. I pick it up and launch it down the hall so quickly, Ryland can’t move. It hits him across the chest and sends him flying into the kitchen beyond.

Another man takes his place. I flip up my rifle and pull the trigger, and he falls on top of Ryland’s squirming body. There’s a stomach turning crunch. Then, they both go still.

Unphased, I step over them and look to the left. It’s a big house, but if I had to guess, Aiden went upstairs because the back door is still locked by a hook and eye catch on the inside. I veer to the right, moving through the living room.

Pain explodes in my shoulder, and I spin, falling to my back so hard, the house shudders.

Aiden stands over me, a rifle in his hand. There’s a second where we look at each other, and we both know where this ends without saying a word.

Someone walks away.

Someone doesn’t.

I lift my boot and shove my body down the floor hard until I’m close enough to kick as hard as I can into his shin. It’s so quick, he can’t sidestep before he swears, falling back against the wall. The glass cabinet behind him shatters, spraying the floor around us.

I roll to my stomach, blood trickling from my palms, and get up. Aiden picks up a chair. I see it like a flash, and then it’s flying toward me before I can duck. Hands up, I catch it and slam it down on the floor, ripping the leg off.

This time, I sling it hard. It hits his arm, knocking the gun from his hand. I kick it back, leaving my gun with it. Now, we’re both unarmed.

“You’re fucking insane,” he breathes.

I tilt my head and take a step closer. We’re locked in, wolves circling.

“She’s gone,” he breathes. “Get out.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m going to make you pay for every fucking thing you’ve ever done to her, you sick fuck.”

He takes a step back. Before I can react, he spins and bolts toward the back of the house. I take off after him, our boots thundering. He disappears around the corner. I follow, catching a glimpse of him at the top of the stairs as he turns.

I go after him.

I’m not scared of Aiden Hatfield.

There’s nobody there. I kick in the first door, tearing it from the hinges. Empty.

And then the second. And the third.

I move down the hall, putting my boot through every door and leaving them a mangled mess. They crash, one after the other, shooting up dust. At the last one, I turn the corner andbam—Aiden comes out of nowhere, colliding with me.

The wind knocks out of my lungs. Pain explodes.

We hit the ground, and he draws back, punching me in the side of the face.

Motherfucker, he’s got a right arm like a mule’s kick. Pain bursts right after the impact, like white heat. My eyes are unfocused, and I blink, his contorted face swimming over mine. His eyes are burning, raging.

That’s the advantage I have over him. I can hold my shit together and he can’t.

I think that’s what makes us different.

I stop moving and spit, hard enough that it hits him. He freezes. Blood and saliva drip from his face. My mouth must be bleeding, I can’t tell. Everything tastes the way it does in a fight, like the raw end of a gun.

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