TWENTY-SEVEN
Staring at my swollen knuckles, I sat at the edge of my bed.
The events of the night draped over me like a leaden blanket.
The shower had done nothing to wash it away.
Her mention of donating my blood to Ezio had ripped open another wound, and the kiss I’d nearly surrendered to was salt ground right into it.
It wasn’t just weakness back then. I knew that.
It was something twisted. Fucking terrifying.
She wasn’t just a colleague, or a friend, or someone I could keep at arm’s length and keep the mask on for.
Paula had slipped under my skin with one look, one touch – and now?
She was rooted there. There was no going back.
My phone had buzzed earlier with a message from Vinnie asking me where I was. He’d picked up my car, clearly arriving at Obsidian at the worst possible time. I typed a quick response and threw my phone on the pillow as I lay staring at the ceiling.
Paula’s voice, the softness of her lips, the way she trembled when I held her – it was consuming me whole.
I’d thought I could compartmentalise her, mentally lock her in a box labelled off-limits, but tonight had shattered that illusion.
She was tangled in my fucking thoughts, and no amount of logic or discipline could rip her out of there.
The vibration of my phone cut short my descent into madness. Her name flashed across the screen. My heart jumped, my thumb answering before thought might follow.
Her name was on my tongue, but it never surfaced. Chaos met me on the other end – a muffled crash, ragged breathing, and then her voice. Panicked. Utterly horrified.
The line went dead before I could say another word.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. The air vanished from my lungs, her words echoing like a scream in a tunnel.
Then instinct took over: a sharp spike of adrenaline tearing through me.
Underneath it all was the darkness I’d spent years trying to contain.
Ezio had planted it there, blow by blow, every time his fist met my mother’s face.
His wrath had been so total it seeded a rot inside me – a hunger for violence I never wanted to own.
But now she’d summoned that darkness, and it clawed its way to the surface, demanding release.
Maybe he’d made me in his image after all.
This wasn’t about the past, though. This was about Paula – the only person who had managed to slip past my walls, make me feel something other than numbness and anger.
I would be damned if I let someone like Travis touch her. Hurt her.
If that made me a monster, so fucking be it. I’d embrace it.
For her.
I reached her building in what felt like both seconds and hours.
Time bent under the weight of my rage, the urgency burning in my lungs as I sprinted up the stairs.
The fractured memories of my father’s violence blurred with the fear of what awaited at the top.
My mind replayed old scenes I’d tried to bury – my mother’s broken sobs, the sickening thud of a body hitting the floor, my small hands pounding helplessly against a man who was supposed to protect us.
Those memories blurred with the present, with Paula’s voice cracking over the phone, trembling and desperate.
Her door hung ajar like a wound torn in the fabric of a home. A red hallway cam blinked above it, catching the mess like a silent witness. I shoved the door, muscles coiled tight. The scene inside froze me: overturned furniture, shattered glass – and then…
He stood over her, hand raised for a blow. Paula was crumpled against the wall, tears streaking her face, her cheek swollen and flushed where he’d already struck her.
For a moment, her face morphed into my mother’s, curled up on the kitchen floor, clutching her stomach as my father loomed over her. The room tilted, my vision narrowing until all I could see was pure… fucking… red.
The monster inside me roared to life.
And I let it loose.
In a blind haze, I surged forward, my fist connecting with Travis’ spine with a force that vibrated through me. The crack of bone on bone was deafening, my already bruised knuckles exploding with new pain.
He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock.
I didn’t let him recover. Grabbing him by the collar, I slammed his head into the wall, the plaster splintering beneath his forehead.
He tried to swing at me, but his movements were sluggish, uncoordinated.
I dodged easily, my body moving on instinct.
My fist drove into his ribs, each impact sharp and solid.
I was bigger than him, but he moved swiftly – too quick to give in.
The sound of fist meeting flesh was a sick sort of symphony, and a part of me craved the next note.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Even when he landed a hit on my wounded chest, it fuelled me. Every punch was a purge – of cowering in my room, of watching my mother cry, of the guilt I’d buried for year, and of Paula’s tears, Paula’s panic, Paula’s hurt.
‘Piece of shit!’ I snarled, levelling his spine with the floor. The back of his head struck the hardwood with a dull thud.
I climbed over him, pinning him with my knee, watching blood bubble at his lips.
‘What gives you the right to touch her?’
His face was now bloodied, his mouth twisting into a grimace, but I barely saw him any more. I saw my father. I saw every moment I’d been too small, too weak to stop the cycle. And for the first time, I wasn’t helpless. I could do something.
‘She’s my fiancée,’ the fucker spat defiantly. That word was the final insult, a claim I couldn’t let stand.
My knee pushed harder into his chest as I leaned in, voice low – meant for him alone.
‘Wrong,’ I growled, in the tone only beasts like us understood. ‘She’s mine.’
‘Cain!’ Paula’s voice shattered the frenzy, cutting through the fury like a blade. ‘Stop! Please! You’re killing him!’
Like a punch to the gut, her plea sobered me. I froze – fist mid-air, chest heaving – and turned to look at her. She was clutching her cheek, her tear-stained face pale and bruised, but her eyes – God… her eyes – were on me. Not on Travis. Not on the arsehole.
On me.
And what I saw there nearly brought me to my knees.
Fear. She was afraid. Of me.
For a damning second, the sound dropped out. The breath in my chest turned to fire, and everything Ezio had ever screamed at me echoed back – that this was who I really was.
I released Travis, shoving him aside with a snarl, and I stumbled back, the room spinning around me.
My hands were bloodied, my breath ragged, and I felt every inch the monster I swore I would never be. My mother’s sobs echoed behind Paula’s. Different time – same failure. And my gaze locked on the woman in front of me – shuddering but standing, her strength anchoring me in the chaos.
‘He isn’t worth it,’ Paula said, her voice steady despite the tremor running through her.
It dawned on me then – that look in her eyes wasn’t fear of me.
It was fear for me.
For what I might become.
She already knew I was on the verge of doing it.
Of losing it. Of becoming something I couldn’t go back from.
The ghost of the past pulsed in my veins.
It lived in the swing of my fists, in the voice that kept whispering: just finish it.
If I’d kept going… I wouldn’t have stopped.
There wouldn’t have been any hesitation, no second thoughts.
I would have ended him, and she knew that would have sealed my fate.
I looked down at his bloodied face, a sickening reminder of how close I had come to crossing that line.
He groaned. Tried to crawl away. But I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up with one hand. He was dead weight, his body limp, and it only deepened my disgust.
‘Listen here,’ I rumbled, every word dripping with a promise men like us understood.
‘Paula is off-limits. You’ll get on a plane and crawl back to whatever shithole spat you out. Because if I see you again – if I even hear your name – next time, I’ll run you through a wood shredder.’
The promise burned on my tongue. I’d meant it. Even if it left a bitter taste on my tongue.
But with her bruised and scared, watching me, the thought of her witnessing a killer instead of a protector hollowed me out. I couldn’t let her look at me through that lens.
Collapsing on the floor like the trash he was, he grunted, spat curses, but I didn’t care.
My focus snapped to Paula.
I stepped in front of her, my body instinctively shielding her. He wasn’t fucking getting near her again. Not now. Not ever.
With a sidelong glance at him, ‘Get the fuck out,’ I snarled. If I kept looking at him, my resolve to leave him breathing might just crumble.
He held his ground, eyes bloodshot.
‘Now!’ I roared, and she recoiled.
One step forward, he bolted for the door, every movement slow, laboured. I waited – muscles taut – ready if he tried anything.
He staggered out, leaving a trail of blood and shattered pride. But before he closed the door, he looked back and locked eyes with her.
Something happened then – a silent exchange that made her flinch as he smirked and turned away.
I lurched after him, but she stopped me, stepping in front of me.
‘No, let him go! He is not worth it, Cain!’ Paula palms pressing to my chest.
When the door finally closed, I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. The room was deathly quiet, the chaos of the fight still hanging in the air like embers after a fire.
I turned to her, my lungs tight as I searched her face. Her bruises had me clenching my fists. But instead, I tipped up her chin, the warmth of her skin mooring me to her, to sanity – whatever was left of it.
‘What did he do?’ I asked, my voice softening, almost breaking as I examined her face.
‘Just… slapped me around,’ she said. ‘He was going to do worse. How…’ she changed the topic, shutting her eyes and wincing as she touched her brow softly. ‘How did you even know?’
I blinked. ‘You called me,’ I said, frowning.