Page 7 of Fly Back to Me
My mind begins to pool with black ink, laying to rest all the great memories of my life. Because after tonight, this event will reign supreme.
Or I won’t have any memories left at all.
But just as the ink consumes the last inch of my mind, it’s all vacuumed out in a swift second as I’m released from my attacker, and I fall to the ground.
Chapter 3
Cade
I round the corner of the steel dumpster, blind fury seizing all my impulses. My body lunges forward, arms snaking around this guy’s waist to take him down to the ground with me.
His back slaps against the pavement, the sharp thud ringing in my ears as I straddle his narrow hips. I dodge his wailing arms, my right fist gearing up to connect to his jaw, but a searing pain cancels my mission.
“Fuck!” I grunt, grasping my left forearm.
A blur of metal waves before my eyes, and my right hand clutches his wrist. I swivel around, my back smacking into his chest as I savagely squeeze the knife from his fingers.
If he wants to fight, I sure as hell ain’t gonna be a pussy about it.
I toss the weapon, the clanging of the metal blade against the asphalt my next green light. Leaning up, I drive my elbow back into his face, and his body slacks against the ground.
Flipping myself over, I straddle this motherfucker again,my palms splaying over his torso. Splotches of crimson already paint his lip, but my knuckles crash into his jaw and then drive into his nose. The bones cave and crack under his flesh, burgundy streams gushing from his muzzle.
Good.
His dark eyes hood, body sagging with defeat through gurgling mewls. Feeling extra generous with my artwork, I blast my fist to his jaw once more, knocking him out cold.
My chest pumps wildly, adrenaline releasing through my gritted teeth. I watch his limbs go lax, admiring every ounce of blood I’ve strained from his face, and honestly?
I pray I killed this piece of shit.
But just as I’m cherishing my newly decorated canvas, a broken sob spears through the thick air.
The girl.
I pop off her attacker, turning to find her curled in a fetal position on the blacktop. Her right arm drapes over her face, and she’s cradling her head in both hands. “Make it stop,” she cries, her slender arms and legs shuddering. “Just make it stop.”
A boulder forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past it. I slowly lower myself to a crouching position beside her, extending my hand to softly lay on the flannel of her jacket sleeve.
“Leave me alone!” she yelps, coiling tighter into her defensive curl.
My body jolts at her screech, my stomach churning as I witness her stark fright.
Maybe I reacted selfishly. I could’ve just subdued her assailant instead of beating the shit out of him in front of her. This innocent woman didn’t ask for more violence. But that’s exactly what I forced her to endure.
“Fuck,” I mutter, swiping a palm down my mouth.
My head pivots over my shoulder, the lanky frame of herattacker still as flaccid as before.
“Hey, you’re alright now,” I say gently, returning my attention to her. “He’s not going to hurt you.No oneis going to hurt you. It’s over.”
Her body quakes furiously, and as much as I know it might startle her again, I can’tnotcomfort her. Given all she had to experience tonight, she deserves at least that. Some goddamn luxury.
My right hand gently touches her sheathed forearm, and on instinct, she latches her hand around my fingers in a vice-like grip. “I don’t want to move,” she breathes, her palm shaking my fingers in her snug grasp. “Don’t make me move.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You don’t have to move. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I have to call nine-one-one, okay?”
I move my left arm to retrieve my phone, pinching my eyes through a groan when I register the sharp sting. A hiss slips between my teeth when I dig in the back pocket of my jeans, the blunt ache radiating across my entire arm.
