Page 150 of Bound By Her

His hand reaching for her.

But Bryson noticed Seth a split second before Jonathan did. He was small. Most people didn’t give him a second glance. And Jonathan didn’t register him as a threat until it was too late.

Seth erupted out of the corner, grabbing Jonathan’s arm. Jonathan turned, putting a hand around Seth’s throat. Seth brought his arm up. Turning, he slammed it down on Jonathan’s forearm, before bringing hiselbow back to connect with Jonathan’s face not once but twice.

The cracks filled the room and blood oozed from Jonathan’s nose as he stumbled. Seth was on him like a wild animal. Grabbing an arm, he twisted it behind Jonathan’s back, the other hand coming up, knife to his throat.

“We usually don’t ask twice,” Seth said, breathing even.

“Don’t kill him,” Eric said, tensing above Bryson.

A shit-eating grin broke out on Jonathan’s face.

“By all means, continue, but you will be sealing your death warrants,” Jonathan said, sneering. “Herdeath warrant.”

He sounded sure, but Bryson noticed the bob in his throat as he tried to swallow under Seth’s blade.

“Bryson?” Seth asked, looking at him to make the call.

Kill him.

It was all Bryson wanted to say. But he didn’t know what was going on here. Would he be putting them in more danger? Her in danger?

The sight of Adria’s limp body next to Seth made the soft shake of his head painful.

Jonathan relaxed in Seth’s grip, his smug smirk widening, reveling in his own arrogance.

But then Seth leaned in, voice low and deadly, whispering something only Jonathan could hear.

And whatever it was—it wiped the grin off his face.

Seth let him go, but before Jonathan could scramble away, Seth moved like a shadow, circling behind him.

A twist. A push.

Jonathan’s right hand slammed against the wall, and Seth drove the knife straight through his palm.

A choked scream tore from Jonathan’s throat, his body convulsing against the pain.

Bryson’s chest tightened with pleasure, watching red spill from the wound.

Jonathan thrashed, his free hand grasping desperately at the blade. “You little shit, you are going to pay for that.” But the moment he touched the handle?—

“I’d stop talking if I were you,” Bryson said smoothly.

Jonathan’s furious gaze snapped to him, his breath ragged, but he was smart enough to listen.

Seth stepped in, pressing his chest against Jonathan’s back, leaning close. “You’ll live.”

Then, without hesitation, he ripped the blade free.

Jonathan shrieked, stumbling backward, clutching his bleeding hand, his body trembling as he scrambled for distance.

Bryson watched, pride swelling in his chest as Seth twirled the knife, poised like a master artist, a predator with his prey.

Jonathan’s pale face twisted in rage, his hand dripping red as he hastily yanked up his pants, wrapping his ruined white shirt around the wound. He threw his suit jacket over his shoulder, the fabric speckled with blood.

Some of it was Adria’s.

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