48. Peyton
PEYTON
The screaming starts first.
Not cheering.
Not hockey fans.
Screaming.
Sharp. Panicked. Wrong.
I spin toward the sound just as the arena lights flicker overhead.
For one disorienting second, I’m still standing inside Summit Arena.
Then the world twists.
The concrete hallway disappears.
Warm Key West air slams into me instead.
My pulse spikes.
No.
No. No. No.
“Allie!”
The scream tears out of Connor as he rounds the corner. He stares helplessly at his wife.
Landon’s arm is locked around her waist. The knife pressed to her throat. Blood slides down her skin .
“You want your wife back?” he snarls at Connor somewhere behind me. “I want Peyton.”
Daltyn skids to a stop behind him. One look at Allie and he goes rigid. His voice is like a blade. “Let. Her. Go.”
The knife presses harder. Allie winces. Blood blooms against the blade.
“Don’t come any closer!” Landon screams. “Either she dies, or I get Peyton!”
“Landon!” My voice cracks through the air like thunder.
Landon’s wild eyes snap toward me. He’s sweating, his hair disheveled. He looks unhinged.
Panic crushes the air from my lungs. “I’m here,” I choke out. “I’m right here.”
He turns his head toward me, and that’s when Gram makes her move. She swings her oversized bag, cracking Landon across the back. He’s so stunned, the knife slips from his hand.
Allie elbows him and stumbles away, tripping in her haste.
Landon barely notices.
He’s focused on me, like a predator with prey in his sights.
The world starts distorting around us. Shadows lengthen unnaturally. Sounds fade, like I’ve lost my hearing.
And suddenly Daltyn is there. His chest heaving, eyes burning, before he launches himself like a missile with a roar ripped straight from hell.
They hit the ground hard.
Everything explodes into chaos.
Blood sprays in the air.
Crack.
A bone splinters beneath Daltyn’s fist.
Landon’s body is jerking under the impact.
Another punch.
Another.
And another.
Landon is no longer fighting or trying to defend himself.
But Daltyn’s still swinging.
“Daltyn, stop!”
My voice breaks apart.
He doesn’t hear me.
Another punch.
Blood covers his knuckles now.
Another.
Landon stops fighting entirely, but Daltyn keeps swinging like he’s trying to kill every horrible thing that Landon ever did to me.
“DALTYN!”
Nothing.
He won’t stop.
He won’t look at me.
Panic swallows me whole.
“Daltyn, STOP!”
My scream finally breaks through his rage.
He freezes, harsh breaths falling from his lips.
Slowly, Daltyn lifts his head.
Blood streaks across his face.
His chest rises violently.
And when his eyes finally lock on mine? I stop breathing.
Because for one horrifying second, I don't recognize him.
“There,” Landon whispers from the ground, blood filling his teeth as he smiles at me. “Look what you turned him into.”
“No—”
“This is your fault. ”
The words echo.
My chest caves inward.
“I didn’t mean ? —”
“You ruin people.”
I wake up screaming.
The sound rips violently out of my throat as I bolt upright in bed, tangled in blankets and drenched in sweat.
The room is dark.
For one horrifying second, I still think I’m in Key West. That Landon is here. That blood coats the walls and floor.
My entire body shakes. My lungs refuse to work.
“Peyton.”
The bedroom light flips on.
I flinch violently.
Daltyn stands in the doorway wearing gray sweatpants and a black tee, his expression tight with alarm.
His eyes scan me once.
The sweat. The tears. My shaking hands.
And something dangerous flashes across his face.
Not anger at me.
At whoever hurt me badly enough to do this.