Page 46 of This Life of Mine

One wrong move from him. That’s all it would take for me to snap his neck like a twig.

“You touch her again,” I utter, “and I’ll make tonight the biggest mistake of your life.”

The words are measured. Controlled.

But beneath them lurks something far less civilized. Something that wants blood.

For a moment, I shut my eyes, pushing the taste for violence down. Once I have it contained, I turn toward Lina.

She’s pressed against her car, breathing hard. Her hair is disheveled. Her hands are shaking. There are fresh scrapes on her skin, and fury burns brightly behind her eyes.

Relief hits me so hard it nearly hurts.

She’s upright and breathing. She’s still fighting.

I’ve seen enough victims to know the difference. Fear is there, certainly. But so is defiance. The same stubborn determination I’ve witnessed every day since arriving in this town. The same strength that keeps her moving forward despite everything life has thrown at her.

The file never captured that part of her—the fire in her.

I come nearer, speaking more quietly. “You’re safe,” I tell her. “I’ve got you.”

The words leave my mouth before I’ve had time to think about them. And the moment I say them, I realize they’re true. In more ways than they should be.

“Who the hell is this?” Cole slurs, pointing in my direction.

He pushes himself to his feet, swaying as he does. For a second, I think he’s going to lose the battle with gravity and end up back on the ground. He catches himself at the last moment.

Drunk. Definitely drunk.

He’s several inches shorter than me, maybe five-seven. Blonde hair, blue eyes, late thirties, according to his file, though you’d never guess it by looking at him. Years of hard drinking have carved deep lines into his face, aging him a decade beyond his years.

Cole scans over Lina’s body. The coat barely tied closed, with a black lace bra peeking out. Her feet bare against the pavement floor. Heels abandoned on the ground a few feet away, dropped or kicked off.

She’s shaking, but she’s still standing.

Recognition twists his face into something ugly.

“Is this the guy?” He sneers. “The one you went to fuck tonight? Is this who you wore thatfuckingoutfit for?”

Lina stiffens. I sense it, like a shift in air pressure.

“Cole,” she snaps, “stop—“

“So that’s it, huh?” He barrels on, voice rising. “You leave me, dress up like a fucking—“

I step forward. One punch. Precise.

He drops like a puppet’s strings were cut, hitting the pavement, unmoving.

Silence crashes down around us.

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911.

“I need officers and an ambulance,” I say when the operator answers. “An assault has occurred. The suspect is now unconscious. He was attacking a woman. The situation is under control, and the woman is safe.”

I give the 911 operator details of our whereabouts, end the call, and turn to Lina.

When I turn toward her, the difference in our size hits me all at once.