The scream that tears through the house is like a grenade to Luke’s heart.
“Sal!” he yells, rushing down the hall and launching himself down the stairs. When he slams into the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks. His brain barely registers what he’s seeing.
Roy.
And Sal, her throat caught in his hands. She hangs boneless in his grip, her body pressed up against the wall. Her bare feet barely grazing the tile, her big green eyes rolled back towards her skull, her head drooping to one side.
“No!” Luke roars.
He rushes Roy, driving a fist into his back.
Roy yelps in pain and releases Sal.
She drops facedown on the cold floor, her limp body twisted unnaturally beneath her.
Time stops. His heart gives out. She doesn’t rise from the floor, and Luke can’t tell if she’s breathing or not. No. Oh God, no.
The sight of her, as broken as the guitar she lies by, sends Luke over the edge.
Rage—murderous and violent billows over him.
Tearing his eyes from Sal, Luke finally faces the ugly, monstrous fuck who took his wife. He grits his teeth, his hands curling at his side.
He knows one thing for certain—he will not let Roy take her again.
Luke doesn’t hesitate.
He launches himself at Roy, smashing fists to his face, his chest, his head.
Roy bellows. But he’s slow and shuffling, unable to dislodge Luke, even though he tries to deliver blow after blow to Luke’s side.
Finally, he lands one. Knocking the wind out of him. A rush of air from his lungs. And as Luke gets his bearings, so does Roy.
Roy charges Luke, smashing his shoulder into his chest.
Luke crashes to the floor. But he’s up fast, on his feet and snarling.
Roy tries to run. But before he can, Luke grips the back of his head and slams his face into the wall. Roy stumbles back, dazed, then collapses to the floor.
He doesn’t rise. Silence swallows the kitchen. Luke’s ragged breathing pierces the air.
Then—
The most beautiful sound in the world.
Soft coughing fills the kitchen. Sal gasping for air, breathing her life back into her.
Thank God, thank Christ, Luke thinks before hurtling to Sal, who’s trying to push herself up on her palms.
He lightly gathers Sal to his chest, helping her sit up. She collapses limply against him, her eyes glassy with pain. Her head lolls from side to side, her entire body spasming as she fights to live.
“Breathe,” Luke begs. “Breathe for me ...”
Bracing her against his chest, he breathes with her, slowly, deeply, taking Sal’s pain as his own.
He brushes her hair aside, needing to examine her, to feel her precious heartbeat, to see for himself that she’s okay when—
Sal stiffens in his arms. Her eyes wide, lasered on a spot over his shoulder.