Page 77 of Give Me Perfect Love

“I don’t give a shit. Honk the fucking horn.” I hit the dash.

Ben steps on the gas and turns his flashers on. I grow panicked, thinking about what Cain could do to the girls. How did this man survive a cut to the throat?

“We’ll kill him, Bryce. We’ll end that motherfucker if he hurts her,” my brother says from the back seat. He’s thinking just like me.

This feeling I have can’t be for nothing.

It’s all too coincidental.

Cain being in town.

The run-in at the gym.

He was there for me.

He wanted to get into that fight. He knew what he was doing.

And now he’s got my fucking girl. He may have gotten some hits in at the gym, but he doesn’t know how bad my rage can get.

I nod profusely in agreement with Jace. “Okay,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay. That’s what we’ll do.” I look out the window again, my mind sparking with electricity, my body growing hot with the need to beat the shit out of him.

The black SUV turns onto the street where Claire’s work is, and once we come to a stop, I jump out.

“Boss,” Ben says, putting the truck into park. Jace is right behind me as we look at the drawn shades and darkness of the place. I pull on the door. It’s locked.

“There’s no goddamn Christmas party going on here.” I put my hands up to the door, looking into the darkness. There’s no one here. “Fuck,” I say, hitting the door with my hand and then I hear it.

A loud bloody scream. My spine straightens, and my skin prickles with sick worry. I turn to Ben. He nods and runs to his truck. Austin pulls up right as Ben walks back with a crowbar.

“What’s going on?” Austin asks, looking panicked.

“They’re in there,” I say. “Move back.”

Ben swings the iron jimmy, connecting it with the thick glass. I turn my head as it shatters into the store before quickly looking back. Ben reaches in and unlocks the door, and then I see him.

His dark, wide shadow appears from the back of the restaurant.

“What the fuck?” he says. My mind shuts off at the sight of his undone jeans. Crimson hot anger sweeps throughout my body. Epinephrine blasts through my veins, preparing my muscles for exertion, and I charge forward. Shoving the door open, I collide with the motherfucker.

We fall backward, hitting the ground with blunt force. He gasps for air and I pull back and slam my fist into the side of his face before grabbing onto his throat, taking advantage of the fact he’s airless.

This piece of shit is bigger than me, but I’m leaner and smarter with my moves. He may have gotten in a hit or two at the gym, but I swear I’ll end this punk bitch right now.

I lift his head from the floor before slamming it back down. I hear it when his skull cracks. He moves under me, but I don’t let up, pressing my weight into him. I dig my hands into his throat harder as he struggles for air, moving frantically. His eyes bulge, and his face turns bloodshot. I feel his veins constrict under my palms, but I keep pressing, wanting to take his life.

Needing to.

My soul begs for me to stop, but something else there, something dark inside of me that I’ve carried for too many years, whispers, “He deserves this.”

“Bryce.” I hear and jerk my head up to see K looking at me with wide eyes. My hands loosen, and that’s all it takes. Cain pushes up, head-butting me. I blink the stars away and stumble backward into a table, not having a moment to catch my balance before he swings his fist and connects it with my jaw. The taste of copper hits my tongue.

I barge forward with my shoulder, knocking him back, but not all the way down. A flicker of something flashes from his hand and he charges at me without me having time to process, and then the sound of a bullet whips past me, catching him right between his eyes.

I stagger backward as his body falls to the floor in a loud heap. I look at his hand, seeing a knife. Fucker was about to stab me.

Blood pools around his head and I look up, seeing Jace standing in front of K. She has a hand over her mouth, and I see her wrists are bleeding under her coat. My eyes drift to Austin and Claire as he holds her. She looks lifeless in his arms.

I twist behind me to see who shot the gun. Ben stands tall with a 9mm at his side, but he’s not the one who pulled the trigger. His slicked-back, dark as night hair shines and his suit has never looked sharper.

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