Page 63 of Savage Sin

Stefano grabs my face and pinches the sides together.

Teeth sink into the flesh of his hand and I get another hit across the face.

“Don’t be like that. Brothers and sisters are supposed to stick together. Don’t you want to play with me?”

This guy has lost the last of his sanity.

“Brothers and sisters, sure, but what about a bastard step-brother? Where do they fit in when all they want is to take what they can’t have?”

His fist is considerably harder than his slaps.

This time when my head snaps, I stay with my head forward, my hair covering my face, and play weak. He comes closer. I hear the Velcro of him releasing the gun strapped to his vest. Before he can aim it at me, I lean on a hip. The second he steps too close, I drive the heel of my foot into his balls.

Like all assholes who think they are gifts to this world, the wannabe thug drops to his knees, clutching his junk. His gun clatters to the floor and I grab it, and aim at the chain of the cuffs and pull the trigger. The second I’m free, I level the gun on him. Tears sting my eyes, making his form dance in my vision.

I don’t want to kill. I swore I would never be like my family. My finger dances over the trigger. A slight pull on a small piece of metal and this man will never touch me again or anyone else.

“You can’t do it, can you? We are more alike than you think.” His Spanish accent is as deep as mine, but that is where our similarities end.

“I’m not a cold-blooded killer. I don’t hurt people just to see them squirm, you sick fuck.”

His death would free so many people. I grip the gun with both hands.

“You have the gun. Do it,hermana.”

Wood groans, and a shower of embers falls over us. Chaos ensues. I don’t know if it’s the sound of beams giving overhead or the fact that Stefano uses the distraction to lunge for me that has me doing something I never thought I could do.

I fall to my back, slam my eyes closed, and pull the trigger.

God, forgive me. I roll, push to my feet and run.

Don’t look back. Knees to chest, don’t stop. Haul ass.

I hit the wet grass at full force as the cabin crumbles behind me. Heavy logs holding the giant A frame roof high above the ground crash into the floor with enough force the ground shakes beneath my feet.

I find a tree and keep it at my back as I try to catch my breath. I turn, slam my eyes closed. “I am not a killer. I am not a killer.” Maybe if I say it enough times, I will eventually believe it. My lungs burn and I can’t see anything. Nearby trees are on fire. Small patches of grass have burned into blackness. Bodies litter the ground. But I see no other living soul out here.

“Rage,” I scream.

The flash of a muzzle and the sound of a bullet exiting the chamber leaves my heart among the ashes.

I hear male grunts and fists meeting flesh. The smell of blood mixed with charred wood will stick with me forever. I raise Stefano’s handgun and fire in the air. Everything goes dead silent around me.

Holding the gun level, I push into the curtain of smoke to find Rage’s chest covered in blood and him surrounded by the enemy.

Time slows. I look on as death guides his fists. He moves with lethal, yet graceful precision from one man to another until the armed enforcers drop around him one by one.

I watch in awe. This is who he told me I should fear.

He comes to a standstill, death at his feet. Blood colors the grass a dark red. The blade in his hand came from one of Stefano’s men because it matches the one he threatened me with.

“Rage.” I start toward him. He holds a hand up. Blood drips down his arm to coat the sleeve of tattoos.

“Stay back.”

My soul weeps at the sight of him sacrificing his humanity to protect me.

“Rage, you’re hurt.”

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