Page 122 of The Vow

The sharp, pointed tip hung toward me. An invitation. A calling.

I heard the click of a knife. Presumably to cut away the clothes he didn’t feel like removing, and then probably to cut me.

Pain drenched my head like a torrential storm, making it almost impossible to see through, but I had to.

For them. The women he’d abused and killed. The ones I hadn’t been able to save. And for me.

Because I hadn’t fought to face my demons for this long only to fall short.

I grabbed the tusk. Just the weight of my arm was enough to break the wires it hung by.

“Wait until your husband sees what I’m going to do to you,” Uzair muttered with a kind of maniacal tone, like the devil inside him had overtaken his barely civil veneer. “I’m going to bury this knife in your ass and then fuck you as you bleed?—”

I shoved off the nightstand, the sudden show of strength startling him as he stumbled back, tripping over his pants that he’d lowered over his penis.

“Fight me, bitch,” he snarled. “It’ll make the fuck that much?—”

I spun and buried the sharp end of the tusk into his side, his eyes bulging in complete shock.

Warmth gushed against my hand. Blood oozed thick and hot, spurting from the deep wound.

He choked and garbled, his head lifting, disbelief flooding his dark gaze as it found mine.

He was dying, but he didn’t seem to care. No—he seemed to enjoy it. The pain. The bloody end.

I shoved him away and ran for the door.

“Fucking cunt.” His lopsided footsteps dragged after me, and my heart collided with the front of my chest.

I swung the door open and bolted into the hall, stopping quickly when three of Belmont’s guards turned and drew their weapons.

I spun, and Uzair was there like some cursed creature who couldn’t die.

I was surrounded. “My husband will kill you for this,” I warned the guards, my hands raised to keep them at bay.

One of them was already signaling to someone about Uzair, the man like a bloodied zombie, as he stumbled out of my room.

Step after step after—stumble.

Uzair looked down at his chest, his shirt completely soaked with blood, and I saw the moment—the fury in his gaze when he realized he was dying.

“Robyn!”

I turned at Damon’s shout, panicked when I saw him restrained by Belmont’s guards. Belmont and the older Shazad followed behind them.

No.

My gaze tangled with my husband’s, fury and relief marring his gorgeous face.

“Uzair!”The older man’s hoarse cry exploded through the space, and I swore it made the windows rattle.

Amir Shazad rushed forward, his gait unsteady but his eyes wide and locked on his son.

“Run,” Damon ordered as the commotion picked up steam.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t leave him.

Uzair fell forward, dead before his face hit the ground.

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