Page 78 of Forged in Rain

I land at an awkward angle and cry out as my ankle shifts under my weight. Jig frowns and lets up, but he still has a hold of my arm as I hobble around the house at his urging.

I don’t have much choice, and my arm fucking stings, but the pain fades when he shoves me into the garage.

“What?” I whisper, my jaw dropping to find the whole place destroyed.

The couch is ripped to shreds, the cushions nothing but tufts of fluff. The corner where the food and microwave once were is now gone. Everything is on the floor, including the television.

With a lump in my throat, I look around, confused about the tornado that must have blown through here. Did they get into a fight?

“Unnhh.”

Cocking my head, I step forward cautiously, approaching the pained sound.

Cyn is behind the bones of the couch, sitting on his knees with his hands clutched around his head. His fingers are bleeding, streaks of which cover his arms and face in macabre swirls.

He looks like he fought with a bear and lost.

“Cyn?” I gasp, stepping back when his head swings around.

His pretty green eyes are black, his lips pulled back in a snarl, and I falter under his thousand-yard stare because I don’t recognize him. My Cyn is gone and in its place? I don’t know.

“Cyn?” I say again, covering my trembling lips with my fist.

He blinks twice before he breathes deep, and much like Jig, his eyes narrow on my face. When he pulls to his feet, I step back cautiously, ignoring the twinge in my ankle. His glare is so fierce, I’m surprised I haven’t burst into flames.

I want to make a run for it, my instincts telling me to escape, but I take one step forward in the hopes of soothing the beast.

“Where were you?”

The tone is so low I have to strain to hear, and goosebumps break out on my skin at the feral quality. He’s like a wild animal, and I’m caught in his sights.

Raising a trembling hand, I swallow and point behind me. I don’t know if Hate followed us in, and I’m too afraid to look away from Cyn to find out.

Cyn’s eyes flicker beyond me before he leaps over the couch and steps into me. Shakily, I press a hand to his chest, and he sucks in a breath before grabbing my fingers in a tight grip.

“Cyn,” I whisper, and his black eyes flare, the beautiful emerald hue blotted by his rage.

“Where’s your phone?” he demands in a guttural tone.

“He threw it out the window.”

“Who?”

“What the fuck happened in here?” Hate growls.

Cyn looks up at him with a furrowed brow and back at me before his expression drops and he springs. A melee of fists, grunts, and curses follows as Cyn and Hate roll around on the floor, trading blows.

Jig leans against the wall with a rude smirk as Bastion appears at the door, his dark eyes burning with distaste when he looks at me. Well, he can get in line. Butt muncher.

“Fucker,” Cyn snarls, and I flinch.

Even his guttural tone is menacing, and with my pulse pounding heavily in my temple, I ease around the flailing limbs, past Bastion, who moves away like I’m diseased, and outside.

Sucking in air, I lean against the wall and rub my chest. Shit. That was intense.

My ankle twinges and I sigh before wrapping my hands around my head and sliding to the ground. But the new angle doesn’t change the feeling clawing at my sternum and covering my sob, I close my eyes.

I’ve never seen such ferocity, and while I’m shaking with adrenaline over the threat my body sensed, I’m also half turned on. My core is achy, and my limbs tingle. I’m fucked in the head, I am, but I think Cyn losing complete control over me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

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