Page 93 of Fury

My throat tightened. I couldn’t get words out.

His chest rose on a breath, his face was ruddy, his nostrils flaring. He grabbed the hand painted porcelain box from my night table, flipping it open. My heart stopped.

Justin’s brass compass was in his grubby fist. “What’s this, an antique watch or some shit? This has gotta be worth a few.”

I launched at him, reaching for the compass. “Don’t take that! Take whatever else you want. Not that.”

He shoved me off him, and the porcelain box went flying, smashing into pieces on the floor.

“No! That’s all I have left of—”

“Of what?” his voice raged, a fierce rage. Bitter and heartbreaking. “Of what, Reen, huh?” A sour smile contorted his lips, and he threw the compass down and bashed it with his heel.

I slumped to the floor, pressing my fists to the side of my head.

“Now you got nothing left,” he muttered. “Just like me.”

But he was wrong. So wrong.

“Don’t do this.” My chin trembled. “Med doesn’t want me anymore. I’m just another girl. One of hundreds. I was trash around there at the end, you know that. There are always new ones to take your place. He has new ones now, doesn’t he?”

“You weren’t nothing special, you know. Just another hole, another set of tits and ass. But he had this crazy thing for you, and that’s what counts. You’re the one who got away.” He let out a short chuckle.

“He doesn’t need—”

He lunged at me, his fingers digging into the sides of my face. “I need this, bitch. I need it.” A chuckle escaped his mouth as his hands spanned my hips and slid down to my ass and my stomach flew up to my throat. He pulled me in against his body and rocked me against his erection. “And I sure as fuck need some of that. Oh, I’m finally but finally gonna get me some of that. Everyone else did, but me. He wouldn’t let me at you that night, would he? That fuck. Holds a grudge like nobody’s business.”

He undid my belt, my pulse thudding in my neck. The leather slid and snapped from the buckle. The familiar clink of the metal. A knell of doom.

I pulled in my stomach muscles, steadying myself.

Never again. Not ever.

Not now.

I’d gone to see a doctor the other day. With my hectic schedule, I hadn’t noticed that I’d skipped periods and felt off. I thought it was anxiety and fatigue, not eating right. And now, here I was, almost three months pregnant. I was in awe, I was in shock. I was elated, I was terrified. And I wasn’t going to let Motormouth take my precious family away from me or destroy it. Everything was down to me, right this very now.

“You know what I need?” I whispered into his sweaty throat, my hands sliding around his thick belly.

He laughed. “Oh, fuckbunny, I got an idea or two or ten.” His mouth nuzzled my neck, his teeth sinking into my skin.

Yes.

I relished the pain, that pain that signaled assault. Annihilation. That I knew.

Bring it the hell on.

He shoved my jeans down my hips, untucking my shirt as he went. “Now shut the fuck up, get on your knees and open that mouth.”

I pressed my chest against his, my hands rubbing his lower back. “You sure that’s what you want?”

One hand squeezed my ass, the other, a breast. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking want, and that’s just for starters. Now get down, dammit!”

Lifting the edges of his jacket, I closed my hand over a thick handle at his back. In one quick move I slid one of his knives from its holster and jammed the blade deep between his ribs.

He didn’t have a return remark this time. Only his eyes bulged, the whites showing, a strangled hiss of air. He staggered and dropped to the floor at my feet. A choking cry.

The blood, the blood seeped everywhere.

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