Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)

His body slammed into the wall and blood stained his grey shirt.

His eyes widened and his hands went to the fatal wound before his body slumped, sliding down the white wall, leaving behind a streak of blood.

The two steel foyer doors exploded and the metal frame crumpled. The girl stopped to look at me, but I kept running as I pushed her ahead of me. “Outside.” I turned to cover our backs while she climbed through the wreckage.

I waited until she was clear before shooting off a few rounds toward the direction of the Lilac, although I couldn’t see or scent her anymore. It wasn’t like a Lilac to run from a fight, but then, her being here was fucked up.

I waited a few more seconds to make sure we weren’t followed then shoved through the damaged doors. The sunlight blinded me for a second and I didn’t see them right away.

But when I did, anger erupted like a building tsunami.

The hilt of the knife dug into my hand as my grip tightened. The gun lay in the other, my finger twitching on the trigger.

Mr. Pompous-ass husband stood with his hands in a chokehold around Rayne’s neck as he dangled her off the ground. Her lips quivered and turned blue as she struggled for air while her hands clawed at his vicious hold, feet kicking and body wiggling as she fought for air.

A trickle of blood slipped from the corner of her mouth and white-hot anger ignited into a volcano of rage.

Disgusting, pathetic bastard. I fuckin’ hated this asshole. Hated most people, but there were levels, and her husband took the top level of me willing to do anything to see him die under my knife.

“Calm down, man. Don’t get her killed acting stupid,” Quill said. “On my way.”

There was one choice. One chance. “I never act stupid.”

“You won’t get away with this,” her husband shouted at me. “She’ll come after you—”

I threw my knife before he said another word.

It drove into his shoulder, skimming Rayne’s ear and a drop of blood dripped onto her shirt. He wailed in pain and let her go, his hand reaching for the knife to yank it out.

She fell to her hands and knees on the gravel, head bowed as she sucked in large gasps of air.

Her husband threw the knife aside and pulled out a gun from beneath his jacket.

I fired and rolled at the same time as he fired. Then I was moving. I dove to the right and rolled before jumping to my feet again and running at him. I could’ve shot him, ended his wretched life with one bullet, but there was no satisfaction in that. He deserved pain before he died.

“Quill, get her the hell out of here.”

I jumped over Rayne and plowed my fist into her husband’s face. I smiled when I heard the distinct crack of his nose. A fine mist of blood sprayed from his nostrils and hit my shirt.

A human was no match for me, even one as muscular as the girl’s husband. Hand to hand, a Scar was ten times stronger, and since this asshole had been experimenting on Ryker, he should know that.

I pounded my fist repeatedly into his face, sending him stumbling backward until he fell to the ground.

“Fuck. Stop. Take her. Just take her,” he begged.

I straddled his pitiful form as he cowered on the ground, attempting to protect his face. “Oh, I’m taking her. After I beat the shit out of you. Then kill you.”

The tsunami hit with full-blown rage as the image of Rayne dangling from her neck, eyes wide with horror, lips trembling.

“Kilter. End it. We need out. Now!” Quill ran at me, grabbed my arm and pulled me off the wheezing husband. “We have two minutes before this place blows.”

I yanked my arm from his grip, bent, and threw another punch so hard my knuckles cracked as they hit his skull.

“Stop. He’ll be dead soon enough.” Quill shoved me in the chest. I shoved him back then took a step toward her husband again.

“I want to see this bastard die.”

I heard the choked sob behind me and looked over my shoulder. The girl’s eyes were wide and horrified as she stared at her husband. His face was unrecognizable, eyes swollen shut, nose off to the side, teeth missing and blood everywhere.

I glared at her. “Don’t tell me you give a shit about him?”

Her gaze darted from her husband to me. Then she stepped back, head shaking side to side. It took me four strides to reach her.

“Kilter,” Quill warned.

I ignored him, grabbed her hand, yanked a knife from the sheath attached to my thigh, and slapped the hilt into her palm. “Finish him.”

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted to her husband then back to me. “I… I can’t.”

I grunted. “He deserves to die.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And you should be the one to do it for whatever the fuck he’s done to you.”

She swallowed, eyes shifting to her husband who was currently moaning while he rolled around on the ground.

She didn’t move.

Fuck it. Fine. She didn’t have the stomach for killing, I did.