Page 184 of Broken Pieces
I swear to God, if one of them lays a finger on her, if they even breathe the wrong way, I’ll break bones without blinking. I’ll make sure they remember the name Zane Rivera every time they look in the mirror and see what’s left of their fucking face.
Every footstep pounds with one word.
Skylar.
Skylar.
Skylar.
The name beats through me harder than my pulse. Every muscle in my body burns, but I don’t slow down. Gravel spits out from under my boots. I need to fucking get there now.
I can see them in my head—Liam with that smug, shit-eating grin, Connor with his slow, poisonous stare, Bryce leaning back as if he already owns whatever he wants.
They have always viewed her as something they could use and discard. The things they said to her in school corridors and classrooms made my gut curl in rage. I remember those nights when I wanted to find them and make them pay for every stare, every filthy word they said to her.
Now they have got her exactly where they want her.
If they’ve fucking put their hands on the one person I would move heaven and hell for, I swear to God, I’ll kill them.
I hit the corner of Sanders Street, lungs burning, heart punching against my ribs like it’s trying to rip through bone.
The street’s dead quiet. Too fucking quiet.
My boots skid as I cut down the alley, and that’s when I see them.
Three bodies.
Two flank her, blocking any exit. One in front pressed too close.
Bryce.
That smug motherfuckers got his hand up Skylar’s shirt, his mouth twisted in that sleazy grin I’ve wanted to smash off his face since sophomore year. His lips move. No doubt saying shit I don’t need to hear to know it’s filthy. The poison he always spews.
Skylar’s face is drained of color, eyes wide, locked on him. Her fists are small and trembling against his chest as she tries to push back, but he doesn’t move. Her whole body is shaking. Trying to hold him off, and fuck, that kills me.
Cassie is behind them, screaming, shoving, trying to claw past Connor’s arm as he blocks her path.
None of them are listening. They’re too far gone on their own power trip.
My vision goes red.
I don’t think.
I move.
The second Bryce turns, my fist connects with his jaw. The impact snaps through the air, a hard, clean crack that bounces off the alley walls.
His head jerks to the side, spit and blood flying as his body stumbles backward. He tries to steady himself, one hand reaching out, but I’m already moving.
I grab his shirt, yank him forward, and drive my knuckles into his cheekbone.
The blow lands deep, and the sound of it hits harder than the punch itself.
His knees buckle, boots scraping across the concrete before he collapses to the ground.
The other two rush at me, trying to drag me off Bryce, but they’re slow, sloppy.
I twist out of their grip and swing hard, knuckles crashing into Connor’s jaw. His head snaps sideways, and he drops without a sound, crumpling onto the concrete.
