Page 81 of His to Destroy

I rise slowly to my feet, towering over him.

"You’ll live," I rasp. "But you’ll wish you hadn’t."

He blinks up at me through the single eye that isn’t swollen shut.

"You lost," I say coldly. "Not just the fight. Not just your freedom."

I crouch beside him, grabbing a fistful of his blood-soaked shirt, yanking him close enough that he has no choice but to look at me.

"You lost your son," I whisper.

He flinches.

"You lost your future. You lost your legacy. You lost your fucking soul."

I shove him back onto the cracked pavement with a final, brutal push.

Then I stand over him, chest heaving.

"And you lost me," I finish quietly.

He tries to speak—tries to summon some last ounce of defiance—but all that comes out is a wet, choking sound.

Flashbacks crash over me like waves with every blow.

Stark laughing at my side during our first street fight.

Stark guarding my back during ambushes.

Stark pledging loyalty to me after I took over the crew.

All lies.

All filth.

I grind my fist into his already broken face, my breath coming in ragged bursts.

He groans, barely conscious now.

But I lean closer, my voice a vicious whisper.

"You were my brother," I snarl. "And you used that to destroy the only thing that ever mattered to me."

He tries to speak, but only blood bubbles out.

I drive my knee into his ribs with a sharp crack that makes him wheeze and spasm.

Good.

Let him feel it.

Let him drown in it.

The way Almeria drowned in fear.

The way I drowned in guilt.

I sit back on my heels, staring down at what’s left of him.

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