Page 177 of Endgame
“Let. Go.”
“Fine.” When he finally releases her, I free his disgusting wrist.
His gaze cuts to Aurora, then to me. I push her behind my back on instinct.
Winston gives me a conniving look that turns my blood hot. “Your funeral.”
His words, the shit-eating grin, they should worry me. I should demand answers, strip him of the advantage he thinks he has.
Right here. Right now.
In plain sight.
Except I don’t care. At this moment, Aurora matters. She clutches my hand tightly, rubbing her thumb on the inside of my wrist.
In my periphery, I can see her using her other hand to massage her arm where the bastard grabbed her.
Her pain makes me lose it altogether.
Let’s see how he likes it when he’s the one being manhandled.
I clamp my fingers around Winston’s arm. The loser flinches.
“Haven’t you done enough?” his wife whisper-shouts from behind him. “He let her go. Stop it, Everett.”
The menacing gesture of tilting my head shuts her the hell up. Her heels scrape the floor as she scrambles backward, her cheeks paling.
“Everett.” That’s Stafford. He’s at my side, his voice low. Appeasing.
Nothing but violence could soothe me now.
No, that’s not accurate.
Violenceandstaking my claim over Aurora would soothe me.
Christ, I love how quiet she is. How she stays in place, trusting me to protect her.
Or maybe it was something Ivy said that silenced Aurora.
Either way, I need to be with her. Alone.
When I’m done with him.
“I warned you what would happen if you ever laid a hand on my wife again.” Ignoring my friend, I shake Winston. His teeth clatter, his arm straining beneath my grip. He’s not getting out of this one so easily. “Yet here you are, hurting her. Did I not make myself clear? Or are you that eager to answer for your crimes by letting me ruin you?”
Aurora gasps, her small fingers squeezing my much larger ones.
She’s owed this. The humiliation I’m serving Winston with.
She deserves that and so much more. To be cared for. To be shielded.
To know what love is. For once in her life, she deserves that too.
Love.
The emotion feels new. Raw. Uncomfortable.
It’s a sharp ache that spreads over my chest like poison.
