That one second of distraction nearly cost me my teeth.Raze’s fist slammed into the side of my face, and white light burst across my vision.I staggered, caught myself on the bedpost, and turned back with murder climbing my spine.
“You touch her again,” I said, voice scraped raw, “and I’ll forget who the fuck you are.”
He looked at me, then at his sister on the floor, and something ugly moved behind his eyes.It wasn’t remorse, but the shock of seeing what his own fury had done.
Tone coughed and managed to sit up, one hand braced against her ribs.“I’m fine,” she bit out, even though she clearly wasn’t.
Raze dragged a hand over his mouth, breathing hard.Then he looked back at me, and whatever pause had existed was gone.
“This is on you,” he hissed.
Blood ran from my split lip down my chin.My jaw throbbed.My knuckles were raw.The bedroom looked like a bomb had gone off in it, and the woman between us was bruised because neither of us had known when to stop.
He stepped toward me again.
Tone rose too quickly and winced, one hand pressing into her side.“Raze, enough.”
He ignored her.
“If I ever,” he said, each word carefully enunciated, “ever see you near my sister again, I’ll bury you so deep no one will find enough of you to identify.”
I held his gaze.
There were a thousand possible answers.Most of them would’ve ended with one of us dead.
Then Tone moved into my line of sight, not fully between us this time, but enough.Her face had gone pale around the mouth.A red mark was already rising along her arm.She looked furious.Hurt.Humiliated.But under all of it was something else.
A plea.Not for her brother, but for me.
Don’t.
My teeth locked so hard my head pulsed with it.
Raze pointed toward the door.“Get out.”
“Raze—” Tone started.
He turned on her, not with his hands this time but with all the force of his voice.“I’ve saidenough.”
She flinched at his tone.
“Get your Russian ass out of my house,” he said to me, quieter now, which somehow made it worse.“And pray I never catch your scent near her again.”
I wiped blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and looked at Tone.
I wanted to go to her.Wanted to touch her face, check her ribs, make sure nothing was broken.I wanted to tell her none of this changed what happened between us.That I’d still taste her on my mouth when I walked out that door.That I’d carry the shape of this room, this bed, this ruin, like a curse.
But I knew her brother well enough to know any move toward her now would light the fuse again.
So I stayed where I was.
Her eyes met mine, burning bright with too much unsaid.Anger.Desire.Regret.Maybe all three.
I bent, picked up my shirt from the floor, and dragged it on over skin already stiffening with bruises.Every movement hurt.But that was fine, because pain was clarity.Pain reminded a man what he was.
A bastard.A fool.Dead if he lingered.
At the door, I stopped and glanced back once.