Kai
The night splits open beneath the sound of my boots hammering cracked pavement, every step aimed at him.
Tyler.
The name tastes like rust. I see red with every breath, the streets warping under the flicker of dying lamps, damp air clinging to my skin like sweat.
Behind me, I can hear her—Scar—her voice ragged and desperate, my name spilling from her throat as she runs after me.
“Kai—please—stop!”
The echo doesn’t slow me. It fuels me.
We’re not far. I know where he’ll be. He always slithers back to the same corners—the neon-stained strip by the liquor store, the alley where broken bottles glitter like teeth. My fists clench until the bones ache. I’m putting him in the ground tonight.
The storm in my chest is louder than her footsteps. Every inhale is fire. Every exhale, a vow. He touched her. He texted her. He laughed about it. And I let it happen—I let all of it happen.
Scar’s voice cracks again behind me, trembling but sharp enough to pierce.
“Kai! Please! Don’t do this!”
But I’m already there in my head. Already got his throat under my hand, knuckles split, blood hot against my skin. I’m not stopping—not until Tyler’s eyes see nothing but me and then nothing at all.
The street narrows into shadow, the neon hum from the liquor store flickering like a dying heartbeat. I slow—not because I want to, but because fury’s strangling me so tight I can barely breathe. My chest heaves, fists flexing, nails cutting into my palms.
He’s close. I can feel it—the air itself curdling when Tyler’s near.
Behind me, Scar stumbles, shoes scraping broken pavement. She’s crying now, but it’s not soft; it’s jagged, desperate.
“Kai, you don’t understand—if you do this—”
I half turn, eyes burning.
“I understand enough.” My voice comes out low, shaking, glass about to shatter. “He put his fucking hands on you. He kept touching you even after you said no. He laughs about it. He threatens you. And you think I’m just going to let him breathe another night?”
Her lips part, tears cutting clean tracks down her cheeks. She shakes her head like she can force the truth back into me.
“But if you kill him—you’ll be gone. You’ll leave me.”
That stops me for half a second. The drip from a gutter, the buzz of a lamp, the hollow echo of her sob—all of it rushes in. My throat locks.
Because she’s right. And I don’t care.
I turn back, storming forward, fists already curling for his throat.
“Then you’ll visit me in hell,” I mutter, mostly to myself—but she hears.
Her footsteps slap the pavement before I feel her—arms latching round my neck, nails digging into my skin, her whole body pressed desperately against me as if she can anchor me in place. Her sobs shudder into my collar, hot and broken.
“Please,” she gasps, every word cracking. “Please, Kai—come home with me. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”
I clutch her hips, fingers trembling, because I should peel her off and keep moving. But I can’t. She smells like salt and candle wax and the tears that break me in ways fists never could.
I tilt down, press my forehead to hers, and for once my voice isn’t all rage—it’s raw, wrecked.
“Baby… I need to do this. I can’t let anyone hurt you. I can’t let him breathe knowing he touched you—knowing he still thinks he can.” My thumb drags across her cheek, catching another tear. “I can’t fucking let him do this to you anymore.”
She shakes against me, sobbing so hard I feel it vibrate through my ribs. Her lips are right there, trembling like a dare.
I take them.
Not gentle, not cruel—just everything at once.
A kiss that tastes of salt and blood and something so forbidden it should burn us alive.
My mouth devours her plea; hers clings to my fury.
It’s hot, desperate, teeth and tongues and gasps between sobs—the kind of kiss that isn’t a promise. It’s a ruin.
When I tear back, I’m panting, thumb tracing her lips like I can memorise them in one touch.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, softer than I should be, harsher than I want. “But I have to finish this.”
I peel myself away. Her arms fall, useless, to her sides.
I take three steps before her scream tears the night in two.
“But I love you!”
The words hit like a punch, stop me cold. My hands flex at my sides. The neon buzz fades. The whole world holds its breath.
I don’t make it three steps before the weight of her voice cracks me open. I love you. It rings louder than her sobs, louder than the blood pounding for violence.
I whip back faster than I mean to. She flinches when I’m in front of her again, my hand cupping her jaw rough enough to make her gasp. My mouth grazes her ear, breath ragged.
“You don’t get to say that and then try to stop me.
” My voice is a snarl, broken through gritted teeth.
“You don’t get to love me and then let him live.
That’s not how this works, Scar. You want me?
Then you want all of me—the rage, the ruin, the violence.
You don’t get the soft pieces without the blood on my hands. ”
Her tears spill over my thumb. She shakes her head, but her body leans into me like she’s starving for it—terrified and drawn closer all at once.
I press my forehead to hers, nails biting into her chin to keep her eyes on mine.
“So say it again. Say you love me—and then watch what I do to the bastard who touched what’s mine.”
Her lips tremble, and for a second I think she’ll swallow the words, bury them where they can’t undo us. But then—soft, shattered—
“I love you.”
It breaks me. It brands me. It should anchor me.
Instead, it sets me on fire.
I drop her face like it burns, fists curling at my sides. If I don’t walk away now, I’ll drag her with me into this, and she’ll see every part of the monster she swears she loves.
“Then you’ll fucking understand,” I grind out, voice more knife than sound. I don’t look at her again—if I do, I’ll fold. And folding isn’t an option. Not with him still breathing.
My boots hit the pavement hard and fast, every step thundering in my ears, drowning her sobs behind me. She’s calling after me—I can hear it, ragged, raw—but the night swallows her voice, and I don’t turn back. I can’t.
Not until Tyler’s blood is on my hands.