Page 199 of Stick It
I’m on the precipice, perched on the knife’s edge and ready to slide it through the thin barrier of his skin and into his artery until blood pumps out of him like a waterfall.
My hands shake with the effort to hold myself back, and the blade’s tip slips, cutting deeper into his skin. He hisses, flinching in my grip, but all I can see is the blood. I canfeelhis lifeline pulsing between my fingers. So fragile. So…temporary.
And then a hand clamps heavily around my shoulder and snaps me out of it.
“Dylan,” Ethan murmurs low in my ear, for only us to hear.
A reminder, as if that’s notpreciselywho I’m thinking of.
“She needs you—here,” he says, as though reading my mind. “You made her a promise.”
Fuck. He’s right.
I stare at the tip of the blade embedded in the fucker’s neck for another moment before I wrench it free. Flipping it closed, I return it to my pocket. Then, because he fucking deserves the agony, I lift my leg and slam it into his knee. I hear the popping. The tearing of ligaments. I force his kneecap so far out ofposition that there’s no fucking way it’s going back into position without surgery.
The pussy screams, falling to the ground and clutching at his leg.
“Try finishing out the season now, you fucker.”
“My leg,” he cries, tears and snot mingling with the blood on his face. “My leg.”
“I’d be worried that this could end your hockey career,” I taunt, face a mask of faux sympathy. “But we both know you never had a hope of playing after college.” With a wicked smirk, I finish, “Have fun finishing out your last year on the bench.”
Still sniveling, he shakes his head.
That’s when Ethan steps forward. I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders that he doesn’t agree with what I did. What the fuck ever. However, as a true captain, a true team member, he has my back.
Stepping in front of Lucas, he crouches in front of him, holding the asshole’s phone up. “Just in case you get any ideas about telling people what happened here tonight, we’re going to keep this. I’ve already changed your password and disconnected it from your cloud account. If anyone comes asking questions about what happened to you, you’ll findyourselfanswering questions about how you have video footage of a girl being beat up and you didn’t take it to the police. Obvious taunts to not onlyhurtthat girl, but get her fucking killed. So I suggest you come up with a story real quick.”
“Fell down the stairs,” Jax supplies.
“While trying to take a heroic selfie,” Finn adds. “Lost his balance mid-duck face.
“Tripped over his own ego,” Jax says. “You know it’s got a wide berth.”
“Nah.” Finn shakes his head. “Tore his ACL trying to impress a puck bunny with a cartwheel.”
“Or maybe he was doing squats in the mirror and tried to wink at himself.” Jax gestures toward Lucas’s sobbing mess of a face. “Dropped the weight on himself.”
“Ohhh.” Jax cringes while flashing an evil smile. “That would get a laugh from the team.
Apparently not done with their theorizing, he claps his hands as another idea comes to mind. “Tell them you were chased by a squirrel and tripped over your feet,” Jax says, deadpan. “I mean, sure, you screamed like a five-year-old girl, but you lived.”
Finn smirks.
“Oh!” Jax snaps his fingers. “Freak pogo stick accident.”
Finn throws his hands up. “You can’t justsaythat and not explain it.”
“Exactly.” Jax grins. “No one’s gonna ask follow-ups to that shit. Like, what is a grown-ass man doing with a pogo stick? No one wants that answer!”
“Guys,” Ethan interjects with a droll expression. “Are you done or can we go now?”
Scoffing, Finn shakes his head. “We could go on for days.”
“Please don’t,” I groan. I’d far rather get the fuck out of here.
My chest heaves. My knuckles are bloodied. My rage is still an untamable storm. But at least there’s one less threat against my little Steelhawk.
