Episode| XII
Her eyes... they've lost the fire. So soft, so different from the fight she showed me before.
How could she give up so easily? She catches me looking at her, noticing the grin stretching across my face.
Her brows knit together, lips pressed into a tight line.
She knows. She knows what's coming.
I never give my enemies a warning. But that asshole... he's got one more chance to kick me before I tread on his fucking face like a horse crushing grass.
It's been a while since I've taken a beating this bad.
I can feel one of my ribs is broken—the stabbing pain keeps reminding me.
Every breath I take knocks against my side like a hammer.
My fists clench, nails digging into my palms, sharp enough to draw blood. I won't let them see me in pain.
But fuck, this discomfort is tearing through me. My toes curl like they're trying to claw out of my shoes. I'm fucking done with this.
What the hell is taking him so long? I need to act.
I smirk, spitting words out like venom. "Hey! You piece of shit! I wish I could fuck your wife."
His face tightens, and I know I've hit a nerve. The punch he throws is brutal, knocking the air from my lungs. I double over, the bile rising. Acid burns up my throat and I vomit. The vile, green mess spills from my mouth, and right behind it, I spit out the tracker.
He grabs her by the hair, yanking her back. She's running out of strength. I see the knife glint in his hand as he pulls it from his pocket. My body reacts before my mind does—I thrash in the chair, tipping it over with a loud crash. All eyes turn to me.
Before anyone can answer, the sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal walls shatters the tension. The air explodes with gunfire.
The more I move, the worse the pain gets, but it doesn't matter. I have to get the fuck out of here.
Ayana hesitated, unsure of his reaction. Block's eyes softened, a rare flicker of tenderness passing through. "Come here," he said, his voice low and strained. His ribs screamed in protest—all he wanted was to lie down and let the pain fade.
He sat on the bed, and she crawled toward him. Block hissed in pain as she accidentally brushed against his injured side.
Block's hand tangled in her hair. "You think you can handle this?" he asked, his voice husky and low. He didn't thrust, allowing her to work at her own pace. She wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to stop.