Page 23 of Unrequited
The screech of tires.
He’s here. I don’t know how I can be filled with relief and dread simultaneously, but I am.
We aren’t far from the pub, but he must’ve flown like thewind.
Footsteps… fast, controlled,heavy.
And then he’s there.
Seamus.
All black, from head to toe.
His eyes are murderous.
He doesn’t speak. He moves.
“What the fuck?” the guy blurts—seconds before Seamus is on him.
No warning. No words.
Just violence.
One punch, then two.
Bone cracks, then screams.
This isn’t a fight but a sentence.
He drags the idiot to his feet. A blade gleams in his hand, pulled from somewhere I didn’t see.
“You don’t get to scream through this,” he growls. “No one’s finding you tonight. How fuckingdareyou touch her?”
As I turn away, there’s a sound. A stifled scream. A cry. A gargle.
Then silence.
Oh god, oh god.
When I turn back, my attacker is a crumpled mess. Bloody. Still. His eyes are vacant as he bleeds out onto the gravel.
Seamus kneels, then wipes the knife clean. Taps something into his phone like it’s routine, as if he’s placing a goddamn food order.
Then he looks up at me, stormy blue eyesblazing.
He cleans his hands on his pants, and the black fabric soaks up the blood.
“You alright, love?” he asks, his brows knit over the concern in his eyes.
Love.
Not girl. Not baby. Not even my name. Just—love.
My heart stutters.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
But it’s a lie.
