Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
ZYRAN
I stood around and watched for way too long. I wanted to see what would happen next, how far it would go. Clearly, this prick wanted something from her that she wasn’t willing to give. A part of me hopes it’s because she only wanted to do it with me, but that’s not the point right now.
I kept a good distance as I followed them through the club. Not one person noticed what the fuck was happening, not even Kiara’s drunken friend, who was off in a corner, dry humping some tool. No one helped my butterfly when she clearly needed it, and that set me off even more.
The last straw was him pushing her to the floor.
Just before the restroom door falls closed, I reach in and grab the back of his shirt, yanking him back into the shadowy hallway. I really hope my butterfly doesn’t come out to see what’s happening, because I don’t want her to witness this side of me—the side that will kill for her.
I throw the bastard into the wall and land a punch to his gut. We’re about the same height—six feet and five inches—but I have more muscle than he does. Not too much, though, because I have to be able to squeeze into tight spaces to watch my butterfly.
“What the fuck is your problem, man?” he grunts out, trying to stand up and look at me, but I keep punching him in his stomach until he falls to the concrete floor in pain. I grip him by the collar of his shirt and hoist him to his feet again, dragging him to the exit door. Once we’re outside, in the back alley, I pull a knife out of my boot and shove it deep into his torso. He whimpers pathetically as blood starts to pour out of him and onto the ground between us.
“My problem, man ,” I snarl, twisting the knife even deeper, “is that you touched my girl.”
When he falls to the ground, I straddle him and hold the tip of my knife to his throat.
“She’s mine . No one touches what’s mine.”
His eyes widen when I slash his throat, then they stare up at me blankly.
Lifelessly.