My control was slipping.My mate had been threatened, stalked, violated by this pathetic excuse for a man, and he expected mercy?
“That’s my job,” I said.“Protecting her.Not yours.”
The first blow broke two of his ribs.I knew because I felt them crack beneath my fist.
Joe screamed.The sound echoed through the warehouse, muffled by the soundproofing, heard by no one who mattered.
I did not stop.
I had been Bratva since I was eighteen years old.I had beaten men before.Killed them.Disposed of bodies in ways that ensured they were never found.But this was different.This was personal.
My wolf surged forward, and I let him.My eyes burned as they shifted to amber.My claws extended, tearing through Joe’s shirt, leaving bloody gouges across his chest.
He was babbling now, words tumbling over each other in a desperate stream.He offered apologies I did not want, excuses I did not believe, promises to disappear and never come back and forget Lena existed.
Too late.
“You touched what was mine,” I said, my voice barely human.“You watched her.Followed her.Thought you had any right to be near her.”
“I loved her.”He was crying, blood and tears mixing on his ruined face.“I loved her.”
“No.”I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me.“You wanted to own her.There’s a difference.”
His throat tore open under my claws.
The spray of blood was hot against my face.I watched the light leave his eyes, felt the wolf’s savage satisfaction as the threat to our mate went still and silent.
It was done.
I stood over the body for a long moment, letting my heart rate slow.The rage was fading now, replaced by cold satisfaction.Relief flooded through me, and triumph, and the absolute certainty that I had protected her, eliminated the danger, kept her safe.
She’s safe.My wolf purred.Our mate is safe.
My men would handle the disposal.That was what they were for.I washed my hands in the industrial sink, as Joe’s blood swirled down the drain.My reflection in the metal surface showed amber eyes slowly fading back to gray.
Guilt was absent.He had threatened my mate.The outcome was inevitable.
The sun was setting by the time I arrived back at the manor.Lena was waiting on the front steps, wrapped in one of my shirts, the collar at her throat catching the light.
She searched my face as I approached, and whatever she saw there, she did not ask about it.
“Is it done?”she said.
“It’s done.”I pulled her into my arms, breathing deep of her scent.“You’re safe now.He won’t bother you again.”
She did not ask who, did not ask what I had done.She knew what I was.She had accepted all of it when she accepted me.
“Come inside,” she said, taking my hand.“Come to bed.”
I let her lead me.
The bedroom was dark except for the moonlight.She undressed me slowly, her fingers careful on buttons and zippers, and I let her.Let her see the blood I had missed on my cuffs.Let her know without words what I had done for her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, pushing my shirt off my shoulders.“I’m not afraid of what you are.”
“You should be.”
“Maybe.”She pressed her lips to my chest, over my heart.“But I’m not.”