Page 166 of Deacon

“You got any last words?” he seethes, lifting what looks like a chair leg.

Clearly, he underestimated the amount of times I’ve had the shit beat out of me if he thinks this is the end. I tighten my hips and thighs, wrapping them around his free leg, and flip him to the side. Before he can react, I grip him by the collar and slam him into the floor.

“Yeah, how’s it feel to be a little bitch?” I pant.

He gnashes his teeth, slams them together, foam gathering at the corner of his mouth.

“You want that whore, you have her,” he spits. “She’s fucking ran through.”

I hit him hard enough to stun him for a second. My fingers dig into his hair, pushing his head back against the floor. I lean in, our breath mingling. Blood drips from my mouth and hits his chin.

“Is that why you never touched her?” I say, teeth gritted.

His eyes widen.

“What? You think I don’t know?” I spit. “You thought you’d be the first, huh? Couldn’t stand it when you weren’t.”

I’m just shit-talking based on my assumptions, but I’m clearly right, because the deepest rage mixed with self-loathing floods his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, Bittern spilled everything,” I say. “How he’s not your boy. Does it eat you up that you’re the same as his father?”

His throat moves as he swallows. My blood slips down his jaw.

“Do you look in the mirror and see him?” I whisper, getting closer. “And then think about touching her anyway? Filthy fucking pervert.”

He snaps into action, whipping his head back and butting me in the face. My nose crunches for the third or fourth time in my life, and I feel it snap. Blood surges down my chin and over his face.

The tension, the blood spattering over us, throws my balance. Aiden flips, scrambling to his feet, and runs. This time, he’s not trying to do anything but get away. I scramble upright, the room swaying.

My hand finds my nose through slippery, metallic red and pinches it hard, pulling it down and back into place. Pain hits me so hard, myeyes cross for a second. I lean over and spit, trying to get the blood out of my sinuses so I can run like hell after him.

He’s disappearing through the back door. There’s nowhere to go. It takes my eyes a second to adjust, before I clock his shadow moving toward the barn. Then, it appears in full color as the motion activated lights come on, flooding the yard.

I sprint after him, stopping only to grab the table leg off the living room floor. Neither of us were made for this kind of running. We’re both big and carry a lot of muscle. I can fight, but not for longer than a reasonable amount of time.

That’s why I prefer to finish my fights within fifteen to twenty minutes. After that, I need a beer or something.

We enter the barn, and he spins, hands up. The whites of his eyes flash.

“Walk away,” he pants. “This doesn’t have to end like this.”

“Yeah, it does,” I say.

He shakes his head. My blood is all over his face, making his teeth stand out starkly as he struggles to get his breath.

“Just fucking take her,” he says.

I cock my head. “And my land?”

“We’ll talk.”

Every time Freya has brokenly admitted bits and pieces of her past runs through my mind. She came to me shattered, too scared to look me in the eye sometimes. Aiden did that. He made her afraid. Abuse is complicated, I know that. He might not have hit her, but he abused her for years over things that were never her fault.

That pisses me the fuck off.

Abuse against those who can’t fight back is unforgivable. The people who perpetuate that are evil, sick fucks just like Aiden. He’s weak inside, tied up in knots over his hatred and lust for what he wants but doesn’t understand.

I take a step closer. He backs up.

---