Chapter 30 Glass is fragile. It also cuts #3
"Stay away from me," I say as I turn for the door handle, only to find it has locked behind me.
Erik is quickly beside me, pressing his fist to the door.
Tugging on the doorknob, a shaky breath expels my mouth.
I spin to scowl at him, my lips curled up in disgust. My eyes well, but I wrestle with them so they don't expel tears like rain. But they want to.
His gaze shifts around my face before fixing on a single tear as it slides down my cheek. "We got interrupted last time I found you. This is a little gift from God. He owes me."
I narrow my eyes with defiance.
He grins. "Did you get my messages?"
Oh God.
My throat tightens, but I manage to say, "Are you crazy? Max is going to kill you."
He laughs and the hysteria in it chills me to my core.
"Max is going to kill me?" he mocks. "Do you think I care if I die?
This is all I want. This is all I asked for.
Revenge. It's the only item on my bucket list. Dustin wants my revenge as well, ya know?
" He leans in, his eyes wild. Crazed. "He doesn't like your brother either. "
A whimper escapes me without my permission. His hand slides up the slit of my dress and I tense, willing myself not to break down as I begin to vibrate with fear against the door. My eyes drop to his hand as I feel two fingers push against the thin fabric between my legs.
Where are my hands? What are they doing?
Push him away!
My head screams Max's name.
Max!
But my lips do nothing but draw in air.
"I have no life. I have no interest in living like this... with this face," he hisses.
My teeth tighten as I stare at his disfigured face. I will myself to hold my own. Don’t break down. His cruel brown eyes crinkle in the corners at my attempt to stay strong. He chuckles a little, which causes another tear to fall from my eye.
As he talks, he leans in until his lips are pressed to my wet cheek.
"I want to take something from him. He took Blesk from me.
She was mine first. The only girl I've ever loved.
I didn't even know that he had a sister until I saw you in The District News.
So pretty as well. Such was my luck that day.
And now this day. Of course, I didn't realise that Max Butcher had already put his cock inside you. That was a bit of a disappointment."
It's hard to breathe as he presses his forearm into my neck, pinning me, near airless, against the door.
His other hand—oh God. It begins to rub me through my knickers.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading with my body not to respond, not to betray me.
Although I'm frozen, my heart is riotous in my ears. I imagine fighting back. I imagine slapping him. Frozen by fear, my body isn’t responding to my demands. To move. To fight. To scream.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you.
I just want to fuck his sister like he's fucking mine.
" His hot, smoky breath slithers down my neck as he slides his fingers under my knickers and inside me.
"Women were created to be so weak. Small.
Fragile. And with this little part of your body, men can control you.
Max controls you with it too. Doesn't he?
We literally enter you. Like the devil himself. We enter you."
As Erik moves his fingers inside me, my teeth fix tight, but my throat groans my discomfort.
He chuckles at me. "Does that feel good?"
My mind shifts to a different place. And now I see Blesk. I hear her words about mind games. This is her brother. A driver. He's not nearly as powerful as my boyfriend. Or his family. My eyes narrow on him. "You could never make me feel good!"
As laughter erupts from him, my hands flex at my sides, reminding me that they are there. In an instant my fingers meet the crevassed plane of his face and my nails dig in hard, splitting skin and drawing blood.
Growling, Erik grabs my wrists and throws me forward onto my knees. "You cunt!"
"Max!" I scream, stumbling to my feet just as Erik lunges for me.
He fists my hair, my scalp burning as he drags me across the alfresco.
My elbows go up to protect my face as he throws me headfirst through a glass table.
Shards scatter in the air and drive into my skin.
Blood drips down the length of my forearms and onto the floor.
With fingers knotted in my hair, he drags me across the ground and drops down on top of me.
"Feisty little bitch. I was just going to fuck you, but now I think I'll cut that pretty little face up."
Oh God!
I gyrate beneath him, flailing my limbs and body, trying to buck him off.
His weight compresses my chest, but my knee meets his groin and he keels over onto his back, grasping at his balls.
Before I can get to my feet, fingers enclose my ankle, yanking me backwards.
A big shard of glass in my forearm digs in deeper as I'm dragged under him.
I claw at the pavement. "Max!"
He grunts with exertion as he slams me onto my back. He rears up and drops his fist into my face, the blunt force of his knuckles blackening the world around me. I let out long, deep groans as I roll around, disorientated.
Squinting up at him, I try to focus on the blood splatter on his jagged face.
Try to pull myself out of the haze that has settled around me.
Try to ignore his hands. He starts to touch me.
The breath on my cheeks is hot, musky and makes my head spin.
He's suddenly squeezing my breasts so hard that pain shoots under my arms and around the back of my shoulders.
When I regain my sight, nasty bloodshot brown eyes scowl at me. I feel the shard in my forearm shuffle between gashed skin.
Glass is fragile. It also cuts.
I reach for it, pull it out with a long throaty cry and thrust it into the side of Erik's neck, pushing it through the soft, mushy flesh.
Those cruel eyes widen.
Instantly, blood begins to pour from the incision. I kick him off, straining for breath, and scamper on my knees to the door. When I reach the door and he still hasn't come after me, I turn to watch as he rolls onto his back. Blood splutters as guttural sounds escape him.
Pressing my back to the wall, I watch him choke on his own blood. The piece of glass in his throat moves as he swallows and groans. Fearful glossy brown eyes stare at me.
I'm not shaking anymore. My body is perfectly still. A little cold, perhaps. My breathing is deep, steady, and precise.
The door beside me opens and Max strides out, his back to me for a moment.
Then he turns.
Narrowed grey eyes wrap themselves around me. Bronson and the scarred guard I'd seen at the wedding are beside Max in an instant. Their eyes fall to me on the floor, taking in the blood and glass. Xander bursts through the door next.
Completely ignoring Erik gargling on his own blood a few metres from my outstretched feet, the Butcher brothers drop to my side.
One of them immediately wraps the wound on my forearm with something soft; a piece of fabric—a tie, I think.
Big warm palms cup my cold, wet cheeks. Max searches my expression.
Dropping his eyes, he studies each cut, scratch, and gash on my body as if creating a record in his mind.
The stormy grey rings around his pupils thin to near nothing.
"She's in shock," Bronson murmurs, his voice soft, chilling. The voice of Mr. Hyde to his Jekyll. So, unlike the man I know. He gently strokes my hair.
Xander's eyes are frozen open. "I'm so sorry, Cassidy! Max, I'm so sorry."
I watch Max's face contort. Snap.
Break.
He jumps to his feet, swiftly and deadly. Pulling his gun out from the back of his pants, he points the muzzle between Erik's eyes.
"Stop," I say as I try to climb to my feet.
And to my absolute disbelief... Max does.
Bronson helps me stand. My legs are weak and sore, having been twisted and hauled around. Xander stands like a statue—stone cold. The other man merely steps back inside the corridor and closes the door behind him.
Max lowers the black pistol to his side as I approach him. While I stare at his profile, he doesn't seem able to break his pointed watch of Erik—or maybe he just can’t look at me...
His eyes glisten in the low light of the courtyard. Something is very wrong in his dark mien... irredeemable pain. Unimaginable rage.
My gaze bounces from the lethal look in my lover's eyes to the look of fear in Erik's. Briefly, Erik looks relieved to see me standing over him. Doesn't he know he's going to die? I told him as much a few minutes ago and now his blood is pooling around his neck so deep it appears near black.
Max grabs the barrel of the gun and offers me the black handle to take.
"Max, no," Xander begs. "She shouldn't—"
"Hush, Xander," Bronson orders.
I blink at the gun for a moment... And then my fingers enclose the cool, hard piece with little more thought.
"Both hands," Max states, his voice toneless—almost disembodied.
Clenching my jaw, I grip it in both hands.
It's not nearly as heavy as I'd originally envisioned.
Should I feel remorse right now? Or is this just another contradictory piece of myself being discovered?
A piece that's sick of people underestimating me.
Sick of people calling me weak and fragile.
A piece so very sick of people fucking with my family!
I lift the gun, stare at the whites of Erik's eyes and pull the trigger.
I feel the power in the piece as it unloads.
Like a pulse within my palms. The bang should be loud, but I'm not sure I can hear it properly.
A kind of fog has settled in my mind and it's as if my feelings have been cauterised to the point they no longer exist. It's like confusion, but without the loss of information.
I understand everything happening, but my response isn't natural—isn't Cassidy.
I pull the trigger again. Before I can pull it a third time, Max wraps his hand around the barrel and takes the gun off me.
Erik isn't choking on his own blood anymore.