13. Cassidy
THIRTEEN
CASSIDY
I lost sight of Bindi. She loaded up a tray full of bottles and slipped into the VIP rooms over thirty minutes ago.
It doesn’t usually take her this long to set up a room.
I know because I’ve been watching her work for the past few nights, regardless of her insistence that I leave her alone. I can’t.
I hang out near the restroom, acting as if I’m trying to sober up. The second I hear her distant scream past the door, the world narrows to a pinpoint.
I shove through the VIP corridor, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every instinct in my body is already preparing for blood. I breeze past all the curtained VIP sections in the casino. The club isn’t open yet, so just a few people are setting up for the night. All oblivious to Bindi screaming.
“Fuck you—” she yells out as I find the door that she’s behind.
It flies open with a crack that echoes off the walls. And then I see them.
Anthony Santoro .
His hands are on her—one gripping her wrist, the other curling up the hem of her shirt, her skirt is already hiked up around her hips, her panties shifted to the side. His cock is out of his pants and fully erect, his mouth just inches from her ear as his cock rubs against her thigh.
Her face is twisted, eyes wide with panic. Her mouth is open, yelling every obscenity at Anthony.
“Let. Her. Go,” I warn.
Bindi’s curses fall past her lips and a warmth returns to her eyes.
Yes, I’m here. I’m going to save you—just like I always promised, my sweet Firefly. I love when you burn so brightly.
My body and the adrenaline take over, and I cross the room in a blink.
The first thing I grab is the back of his head.
My fingers tangle in the thick grease in his hair, yanking so hard his neck snaps back.
Before he can react, I slam his face down on the edge of the marble table.
There’s a sickening crunch—a noise so wet and delicious it vibrates through my arm and down to my cock.
Blood spatters across the coke-lined tray beside them. Bindi gasps, stumbling back as Anthony falls to his knees. But I don’t stop. He’s still breathing, so I make sure every inhale costs him.
I drag him up by the collar, his designer shirt ripping in my hands, and drive my fist into his gut.
He folds forward, wheezing, but I catch him under the chin and drive him back into the floor.
My knees hit the tile on either side of him, and I’m not thinking, I’m just . . . hitting. Over and over.
His lip splits. His cheek blooms with purple. One of his eyes is swelling shut already, and I don’t care. I want him to be unrecognizable. I want his own mother to cry when she sees what’s left.
“Cassidy!” Her voice is behind me.
But I can’t listen to her now. Not when my hand curls around his throat, causing him to sputter .
“You thought you could fucking touch her?” He gurgles, blood running from his mouth, bubbling in his throat. “You put your hands on her like she was something you owned. Funny. I don’t remember her asking for your wimpy-ass cock, motherfucker.”
I slam his head against the ground again, harder this time. He twitches.
The floor is slick with spit and blood. Fucking beautiful.
Bindi’s hand is on my shoulder, pulling, trying to drag me back. “Cass, stop. Please.”
She’s never asked me to stop a fight before I’ve won. But that isn’t what stops me—it’s because of the way she says it. Like she’s scared.
Of me.
I freeze. My fist hovers over Anthony’s face, knuckles covered in red. My breaths are coming in short, harsh gasps and I feel the sweat rolling down my back under my shirt.
She’s standing just behind me, her top torn, lipstick smeared, collarbone already bruising from where he grabbed her. Her arms are crossed, but it’s not defensive. It’s like she’s trying to hold herself together. Like if she lets go, she’ll shatter all over this floor.
And her eyes . . . they look right through me.
Like she doesn’t know who I am.
Or maybe she does.
And that’s the problem. She’s known the monster that’s lived inside me before and was never scared. So, why is she now? I stand slowly and reach for her, but then Anthony moans on the floor, one eye fluttering, blood bubbling from his lips. I don’t care. I don’t look at him. I only look at her.
“He was going to hurt you,” I say quietly.
She nods once. “And you nearly killed him.”
“I would’ve,” I admit, “if you hadn’t stopped me.”
Her face crumples for half a second, then she shakes her head and starts moving toward the door .
I reach out. “Binx?—”
“Don’t,” she snaps.
I freeze. My hand hangs in the air.
“You think this proves something? That you’re some kind of savior?” She whirls on me, fire burning through the tears in her eyes. “You’re just another monster in a different skin.”
So she does see the monster. Only this time she’s actually scared of what I’ve become. What I am because of her. Because of the predators that want to hurt my precious belongings. I swallow, but the blow she landed sticks in my throat like glass.
She turns to leave, but pauses, looking at Anthony as he coughs and curses under his breath. He won’t be able to call for help for a while.
I take a final step toward her. “He won’t touch you again.”
She stops at the door, but doesn’t turn. “Neither will you.”
Then she’s gone, the door swinging shut behind her, leaving me alone with Sputter McBlood-sput. His body twitches—he might be going into shock, but . . . I didn’t beat him that badly. The weak bastard.
I kneel, leaning in close so he can hear me. “Next time,” I whisper, “I won’t stop. You’ll be nothing more than a smear of blood on my shirt. But first, I’m going to make sure my girl gets home all right.”
I’ll kill a thousand-man army just to prove I’m the good guy now.