Page 330 of Phobia
Tommy and Frank storm the kitchen, no longer silent, and fresh grunts fill the room as they land their blows.
“Are you hurt?” Billy asks, pulling at the blood-soaked robe.
“It’s not mine. Helphim.”
Nodding, Billy goes straight for the kitchen, only to be knocked over as someone crashes into him. Both men tumble to the floor with the unknown man on top, putting Billy at a disadvantage.
The stranger grips the side of Billy’s head, and I see what he plans to do. The image of Billy’s skull being crushed into the floor alone would be enough to make me act, but this man came here to kill me—my family.
Ridding myself of the too-heavy robe, I jump onto the attacker's back and, with two hands, embed the entire blade into his spine and twist it for good measure. There’s resistance—the bone, muscle, and spinal cords—but nothing from the man.
I wait for him to fight, but it doesn’t happen. The house turns silent, and two warm hands land on mine. “Let go.”
Dom.My heart sings, but I can’t break my hold.
“It’s over,” Dom whispers. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he gently lifts me. “You good, Billy?”
Billy groans, pushes the body off him and climbs to his feet. “All good.” He still runs his hands over his torso to check before his eyes find mine. “Thanks to her.”
Dom sinks to the floor, wincing, keeping me close to him and my back to the scene in the kitchen. He’s alive. We’re safe, and I don’t even flinch at the heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs.
“Connor isverydead,” Tommy announces.
“You should’ve saved him for me,” Dom grunts through gritted teeth.
Tommy holds his hands up in innocence. “Not my doing.”
Eyes on me, Tommy smiles, and Dom twists me so I’m looking directly at him. “Did he hurt you?”
Dom’s face is bloody, his cheek are swollen, lip split, yet his concern is only for me.
“Jokers can’t touch queens.” I reach out to stroke his face, ignoring the look in his eyes. Forget what’s just happened. It’s the love and pride in those deep blues that will break me. “AreyouOK?”
Ignoring our audience, he pulls me closer until my forehead rests on his. “I am now.”
***
“Here you go.” Jean passes me a towel as I step out of the shower. She arrived ten minutes after the fight was over, just before the ‘clean-up crew’ stepped in, and Dom ushered us both out of the way.
Jean insisted on coming into the bathroom with me, scared that I might be about to go into shock. I’m not. I skipped straight over that stage and found myself in acceptance. I watched the red water spiral down the plughole, fade to pink and eventually run clear, and that was all I needed.
It was him or me—themor us.
“Do you need anything?” Concern is etched into Jean’s features. This is the first time I’ve seen her without makeup… she seems softer.
“Is Dom OK?”
She smiles, clearly happy that her son was my first thought.
“They’re patching him up. He took a beating, but it’ll take more than that to break our Dom.”
“Much more.” Dom leans against the door frame. His face is still swollen, but it doesn’t look half as bad with all the blood washed away.
“Frank’s ready to take you home, Mum.”
Sighing, Jean wraps her arms around me and kisses my cheek. “It suits you,” she whispers, and I tilt my head in question. Smiling, she runs a hand through my hair. “Your crown.”
Jean leaves the room, and Dom reaches for my hand, pulls me towards the bed and sits me down. We’re back in his room, where it all began.
