Page 104 of In Control

Need to knock this Goddamn door down.

Need to get to her.

Need to help her.

Need her.

Finally, with an almighty groan, the door splinters and the whole thing falls away, crashing to the floor.

I storm my way through, not caring as the fractured wood scrapes my face and my body. I land in some expensive hallway and swing my gaze around, my vision tinted blood red.

And there she is, halfway up a grand staircase, the mayor gripping her upper arm.

In his hand, he holds a knife.

A knife.

A fucking knife.

My heart slams in my ribcage.

No! Not again.

I won’t fail again. He won’t hurt her.

I fly up the stairs three at a time, howling with rage and pain and this need. This. Need.

The knife glints. It slices through the air. I reach for it.

I don’t feel the pain. I don’t see the blood. All I feel is his body under mine, his bones crunching under my knuckles, his blood wet on my hands. And all I see is his evil face wincing in pain as I hit him over and over again.

The world is scarlet red, violent and deadly.

I will kill him.

I will end him for this.

“Esra!”

Her.

“Esra, stop! Esra, you're bleeding.”

The man underneath me lies motionless, motionless but breathing.

I glance down at my side, blood seeps through my shirt, running down onto the priceless cream carpet.

A touch on my shoulder.

I blink.

And she’s there, hand pressed to my wound, the other stroking my cheek.

“Esra!”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. So close. So close I can feel her precious heart thumping against mine.

“Did …” I swallow. “Did he hurt you?”

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