“He won’t,” I insisted, because my mind refused to believe otherwise.
“I know she’s my boss,” Cam said, blinking hard. “But I love her.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding. “Me too.”
I felt his gaze on my profile, but he said nothing.
“There,” he told me a few minutes later, pointing toward a building with glass windows painted in a bunch of colors. “That’s it,” he said as I swung the car into a spot. Right in front of a stop sign.
“Call the police,” I demanded as I wrenched my door open. “Call the cops, because I might kill him otherwise,” I insisted, rushing down the street and toward the building.
I hadn’t taken a life in a long, long while. I’d been dedicating my life to the lighter things, the happier things. I didn’t want to invite that darkness back in.
But there was no denying that it was darkness that was moving through me as I ran down the street toward the building, hearing the thrumming of music through the walls.
But just under that, was that… whimpering?
It was blackout dark right then as I lifted my leg and kicked in the door.
There he was.
All I saw was a bloody knife and him towering over Miranda.
The rest?
Fuck.
All it was inside of me was rage and long-buried skills, the types of skills that made me really, really fucking good at hurting people.
“Brock! Brock!” a voice yelled as hands grabbed at me from behind, making me swat them back. “You have to stop!” the voice tried again, and I was vaguely aware of it belonging to Cam.
Cam, who was watching me beat the ever-loving shit out of his boyfriend.
“Brock, you can’t be with Miranda if you’re in prison,” he reasoned.
That seemed to break through the rage.
Miranda.
Miranda whimpering.
Miranda’s blood on the knife.
Turning back, the last of the rage fell away, making me see clearly again for the first time in what felt like ages.
I was vaguely aware of the sirens, then another voice joining us in the room.
“Okay. We have two minutes before this place is getting swarmed,” Lennon said, calm, collected. “If you have a weapon on you, you need to give it to me now,” he said, speaking to me as I made my way over toward Miranda.
“I don’t,” I said, seeing her bloodied, bruised face. “Hey, sweetheart,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “If you needed some extra attention, all you needed to do was ask. You didn’t have to get yourself all kidnapped,” I added, reaching for the gag at the back of her head, and carefully undoing it.
But then the cops were rushing in, making all of us separate as they tried to assess the situation.
I was pulled over with Lennon after they figured out we had been working a case, questioning us about the details as the EMTs rushed in to look over Miranda and the fuckhead who’d put his hands on her.
They blocked her from my view as they worked on her.
My gaze slid to Cam instead, standing off with another officer, looking shell-shocked and heartbroken at the same time.