"Hey—wait?—"
She squeezes. Nothing. The blades press into skin and cut, just enough that blood pours out, but not enough to cut through the bone. It takes more strength than people think.
The man lets out a strangled laugh. "See? I told you?—"
She pushes harder. Her hands shake from the effort. From fury. From something deeper, clawing its way out of her. The metal bites. Skin dents, breaks. More blood wells up. The man screams.
High. Sharp. Real.
Audra gasps. Just for a second. A flicker crosses her expression: shock. At herself. At what she's doing. Her eyes widen. Her breath hitches. Like she didn't expect to get this far. Like, some part of her is standing outside her own body, going,what the hell are you doing?
Pete must be crossing her mind as her grip tightens.
"That's what you did to Pete!" she yells. Her voice is cracking, raw, furious,shattered.
She pushes again. The blades dig deeper. The man thrashes against the restraints, screaming now. Begging. Cursing. Brick lets out a low whistle. Maybe we've done it all wrong all this time? Instead of a quick flick, doing it slowly seems to be far more effective.
I don't move. I can't. I've seen men do this. Men trained for it. Men built for it. But her? She's not built for this. And she's doing it anyway. That's what gets me. That's what grips the dark and possessive part buried deep in my chest. Brick leans closer to me, keeping his voice low, amused.
"If you don't marry her," he mutters, "I will."
I don't even look at him. Because I'm too busy watching her. Watching as she crosses that line. Knowing there's no pulling her back now.
The man screams again. Sweat pours down Audra's face. That's enough. I step in. Close the distance. My hand wraps around Audra's wrist, firm but careful.
"Easy," I murmur, low enough only she can hear.
She resists. There's blood on her hands. Fire in her eyes. She's not done. I feel it. But she's shaking now. Not weak. Overloaded. I pull her gently to the side. Not forcing. Guiding. Just enough to get her out of the direct line.
"Watch," I tell her quietly.
Because if she's going to be here, she's going to understand what this really is. I turn. Step right into the first man's space. Close enough that he can smell me. Fear rolls off him now. Good. I grab his jaw. Hard. Force his head up.
"Enough with the foreplay," I growl in a calm voice. Dead calm. "Why the fuck did you try to abduct her mother?"
He groans. His breathing gets hard. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth.
"Boss…" he rasps.
I tighten my grip. "Be more specific."
His eyes flick toward Audra. Then back to me.
"Boss wants her," he manages, jerking his chin in her direction. Icy coldness settles in my chest. Not rage. Worse. Focus. "Why?"
"Don't say another word, Chico," the other man yells. Chico hesitates.
"Brick," I call, because I've seen it too many times. I had him, but the moment is gone.
Metal scrapes next to me, then Brick steps up beside me. Places something in my hand. A blowtorch. Small. Industrial. Efficient. I don't rush it. Click. The flame bursts to life.
Chico starts shaking. "No—no, I told you?—"
I grab his hand. The one Audra started on. The finger is barely hanging on by torn flesh. Blood drips steadily. Messy.Unfinished. I don't like unfinished. I twist and pull it off before I press the flame to the wound. The reaction is immediate. A scream rips out of him. Raw. Animal. The smell hits seconds later. Burnt flesh. Thick. Sickening.
I don't flinch. Don't blink. Don't look away. I hold it there just long enough to cauterize. To stop the bleeding. To make a point. Then I pull it back. Turn the flame off. Silence crashes back in. Broken only by his ragged sobbing. I crouch slightly. Bring my face level with his.
"Now," I say quietly, "try that again."