Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Leo
Ihesitate for a second. For one fucking second, I stand in the doorway staring at the man trying to drag Mina out from under the bed.
It’s Jack Norton.
Here. Four hours away from home. With blood dripping down his nose.
That one second lasts a lifetime. Long enough for a thousand different thoughts to race through my mind because I’m struggling to comprehend what I’m looking at. The darkness must be playing tricks on me. It’s just someone who looks like him. This isn’t Jack’s style.
None of this can actually be fucking happening.
Then the second passes, reality is accepted, and all I see is red.
Jack Norton dies tonight.
I grab him and throw him across the room as hard as I can. The fucker doesn’t go very far, but at least he’s not touching Mina anymore.
“Le—”
I lunge for him before he can speak. I don’t give a singular fuck about what he has to say. The fucker is fast, darting past me and out the door. He doesn’t make it more than two steps before he’s spinning around and blocking my strike.
I bury my shoulder into his gut, sending us both toppling down the stairs. I’m numb to any of the pain. I barely notice the flash of black behind my eyes when my head knocks against a step, or when something in my ribs gives against the sharp edges.
Jack recovers first, launching to his feet. I try to grab onto his ankle, but he’s always been an agile piece of shit. I must’ve taken the brunt of the fall because his eyes are clear and wild, staring me down as he keeps us separated with the kitchen island between us.
He holds his hands up, palms outward in a placating gesture that only pisses me off more. He just fucking hurt Mina, and he thinks he gets to surrender?
I dart toward him, but he’s just as quick, keeping the counter as a barrier, and I realize now that there’s an unfamiliarity to him—it’s the way the corners of his eyes are crinkled with desperation even though there’s no mistaking the hurt when he speaks.
“Leo, listen. I just want us to go back to the way we were. I was your only real friend. I made you this star. I was the only one who saw your potential.” He points at himself as if that might make it true.
“Do you remember how good we were together? How far you’ve gotten because of me? We were an unstoppable team.”
This again? “You weren’t my fucking friend. I was someone you thought you could manipulate. I got here by my-fucking-self.”
He shakes his head. This is the real Jack Norton. Unguarded. Unmasked. The one with crazed, conniving eyes and a tongue that will lie and twist. The Jack Norton that will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.
“Everything I’ve done has been for you.”
“Was breaking into Mina’s house and blackmailing her for money for my fucking benefit?”
“I’ve never done that.” His brows draw together in genuine confusion.
For all his flaws, he’s never once outwardly lied about things he has and hasn’t done. He’d always manipulate his responses to give nonresponses. Jack really didn’t do it.
In my periphery, I see Mina creep down the stairs.
“Out of every person you’ve ever surrounded yourself with, only I wanted what was best for you.
Only I have stood by you through everything, and you can’t fucking see it.
” His hands move in exaggerated gestures throughout his monologuing, motioning toward himself, pointing at me, clasping together, then he fists them like he’s holding himself back.
“You’re sick, man. You need fucking help.”
“No, I don’t,” he snarls.
“There’s something wrong with you if you actually believe that you were ever my friend—and you’re even more fucked up if you think there is any universe where I would forgive you for all the shit you’ve done. One of the best things that I ever did was remove you from my life.”
He recoils back like I just struck him, and I swear his eyes are fucking watering. “This is your last chance. Apologize and promise me we’ll work things out.”
Something in the way he says it makes me pause. It sounds like the promise of someone who’s willing to lose everything because they have nothing left to give. But I’ve already made my decision.
When I speak, I enunciate each word.
“I’d rather die.”
Jack takes a shuddering breath, eyes dropping to the floor. The rise and fall of his chest is uneven, his breaths harsh as one second rolls into two, then three, and I watch in real time as he reaches an internal conviction.
Slowly, he looks up at me, and for the first time in my life, I see something behind his eyes that scares me. It’s cold. Detached.
Almost pitifully, he says, “I had hoped you wouldn’t say that.”
There’s a snick coming from his hand, and the glint of metal, then he’s jumping over the counter. Mina screams. My eyes widen on the switchblade just as I dart out of his path. The psychotic cunt is actually trying to kill me?
“Mina, run!” I roar.
He raises his arm in an arc, and I jump back, trying to avoid swipe after swipe.
I block his next attack, gripping his wrist to keep it away from me, but he shoves me against the cupboard and throws his fist into my gut to dislodge my hold.
An involuntary hiss yanks out of me from the pain that tears through my ribs, but I just manage to parry his next hit with the heel of my palm to his nose. Jack cries out, stumbling backward.
Mina sprints past us, out of sight, and I breathe a little easier. I use the momentum to slam his arm down onto the counter. His hold on the weapon is too firm, and he pulls his other hand back to land a punch square in my jaw.
My head whips to the side, grip loosening around his wrist. He breaks free from my grasp, only for me to ram my shoulder into him again and tackle him against the corner of the marble countertop.
He makes a pathetic, pained sound at the contact. Food and cutlery fly onto the floor. Sick fascination fuels me to level him with another punch to his gut that leaves him winded, but not disarmed, and he throws himself at me, knocking me back against a wall.
This time, the brandishing of the blade is uncoordinated as he wheezes, not as steady on his feet anymore. It gives me enough time to grab the frying pan off the floor and knock his offending hand away before shoving him back.
The weapon clatters to the floor, but he doesn’t relent, fisting my shirt and getting close as we grapple for dominance.
We’ve always been evenly matched off the ice: same build, similar height and strength. Jack worked hard to make sure we were always equals, and that couldn’t be more apparent now.
When I land a blow, he delivers one too. If he’s bleeding from his cheek, then my jaw pays the price. Strike after strike, block after block. Until we’re not equals anymore.
He straddles me on the floor and gets both hands around my throat. I slap his arms, buck my hips, kick out, punch, hit, but each move is slower than the last. My lungs rage, and fire licks through my brain, fucking with my vision as cold needles my skin.
Jack’s face distorts with dots and a blurry haze the more my fight dwindles.
“We could’ve been unstoppable together.” Despite the roaring in my ears, I hear his voice loud and clear. “I could’ve made you a fucking star. My whole life, I dedicated to you, and this is how you repay me? You don’t deserve my love. I’m—” he chokes off.
Oxygen slowly trickles back into my lungs. I’m too caught up in the shock of watching his face twist and pale, eyes wide on me with the purest, most painful form of betrayal. His throat bobs, mouth opening with a gag to reveal his bloodstained teeth.
My gaze slides to the handle protruding out of the side of his neck. I throw him off me and roll to the side, gasping in a lungful of air as my body tries to orient itself from the fight. I stumble onto my feet, swaying to stand in front of Mina as the room spins.
I blink hard, trying to make sense of why Jack is facedown on the floor, spilling red onto the tile. Why he’s making that choking sound. My attention zeros in on the handle in his neck.
A knife handle.
My breaths shudder as I stare at the crimson pooling on the floor.
A short, sharp sob comes from behind me, and I whip around to see Mina watching Jack, frozen and shivering.
Oh, fuck.
“I . . . He . . . He was . . .” She struggles, mouth opening and closing as her eyes are still on him. “I-I— He was going—”
I grab her shoulder and maneuver us so her back is to my chest. “I know, baby. I know,” I repeat, cupping her cheek and brushing her hair off her face, and I spot the gash on her forehead. “Don’t turn around. Just look at me, okay? I’m so sorry. Promise me you won’t look.”
Fuck. Fuck.
This is . . . my fault. Shit. I knew better than to provoke him, and he must have found out from Coach that I was going to be here.
I should’ve trusted my gut and left the moment something felt off. I swore I saw his car outside of the studio when we took a break for dinner, and look what he did. He hurt her. He could’ve done so much worse if I didn’t rush back here once we were finished.
Christ, what have I done?
He must have left this morning to drive here because flying would leave evidence behind. That means he came here with every plan to kill Mina. It makes me sick to my fucking stomach.
Her eyes snap to mine, and I feel her break. “I— Oh my God.” My chest tightens at the sound of her anguish. She tries turning around. “Oh my fucking God. I—”
“Mina,” I bark. Her head flicks to mine just as her legs buckle.
I stabilize her with my hand on her hip and shake her slightly to get her full attention.
“Keep your eyes on me. You can do that, right? It’s just you and me, alright?
You’re not going to look at anything but me.
You trust me?” She keeps nodding. “Yes, that’s right. That’s good. Now, keep following me—”
She doesn’t move, swaying on her feet. “I feel his blood on me, Leo. Oh, God, I—”