Page 209 of Boy of Ruin
And as he lets go of me completely and Sid is silent, both of them thinking maybe that I’m not so fucked up. That I got out of that cage with my soul intact, or my mind, too. Forgetting for just a split second that I’m not a fucking sociopath, I bring my fist down on his nose for the second time today.
But this time, I hear it break.
And goddamn, does it feel good.
But I’m not done.
Sid is screaming my name, and I see her rushing toward us, but I don’t care.
He brings his hand to his bleeding nose, but his other arm comes up and hooks around the back of my neck, drawing me closer to him. We’re nearly the same height, but Lucifer is lean.
If he thinks he’s going to throw me to the ground, send us stumbling back and somehow get out of this alive, he’s fucking stupid.
I shoot for his throat, slamming him against the wall.
Blood is pouring over his lips, down his pale skin, bright red and vibrant.
I duck out from under his hold, hauling him back from the wall and to the floor.
He catches himself on his palms, rising back up to his feet, but I’m already there, hooking my leg behind his, shoving him backward.
This time he hits the ground.
His head connects with the hardwood.
He lies on his back, dazed, blinking up at me as I come to stand over him, his nose still gushing blood.
I’m breathing hard, crimson on my knuckles, and a lightness in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long, long time.
But Sid is here.
She’s shoving me. Screaming at me.
I’m not paying attention to her.
I can’t even hear the words she’s saying.
I shove her aside, hear her as she hits the floor. See his eyes narrow on me as he tries and fails to get up.
I hate this man more than I think I hated even the Forgues. They’re dead. Buried. Burned.
He still got to breathe.
Not now, though.
That’s fucking over.
I squat down over him as a hand comes to his nose, one to the floor as he tries to push himself up. I untie the bandana, smiling at him as his eyes narrow.
I grab his throat again, knock his head back against the floor as he tries to sit up. A groan leaves his bloody mouth as my hands leave him. I smooth out the bandana, folded into a triangle as I cock my head, watching his chest heave beneath me.
“You know, I wasn’t sure why the fuck you guys wore these things.” I hold up the bandana, one hand on each end.
He’s wincing, clearly in a lot of pain.
It would be a shame if I put him out of it just yet.
“But now I get it.” I shrug, watching his eyes close, so much blood on his face it’s kind of hard to make out his features now, the way he’s lying sending the red trailing down into his eyes, too.
