Page 62 of Kael

He stood and paced a slow circle around the chair.

I was fuming, but I didn't move. I waited.

He hadn't even tied me up—that's how little he thought of me.

I ran options through my head. There was a gun under the bar, one in the kitchen—I couldn't remember the other hiding spots, but the bar was closest.

He kept taunting Kael. "Once, I made her trade pussy for a chicken sandwich." He laughed.

Something in me snapped. Not broke—snapped, like a rubber band that had been stretched too far for too long and finally let go.

Rage hit me so hard it blurred my vision.

I sat up fully. "You piece of shit ass nigga."

Darius turned, then laughed. "There she is."

He crossed the room in two strides and backhanded me hard enough to knock me sideways. The sound cracked through the living room. I hit the floor again, my lip split open, blood already welling. My ears rang.

For half a second, I just lay there, breathing hard, tasting copper, remembering the beatings that usually followed a slap like that.

Then I thought about Lilith—crazy, unhinged, willing to burn everything down if she had to. She had been wrong about so much, but she had been right about one thing: sometimes the only way out is through.

I wanted that courage.

I shoved myself up and charged him, pure, ugly rage fueling me. I grabbed a heavy lamp off the side table and swungit with everything I had. Glass shattered against the side of his head. He staggered, cursing, blood running down his temple.

I didn't wait. I ran.

He caught me before I made it three steps, one arm around my waist, hauling me back. I fought like an animal—nails, teeth, knees, elbows. I raked his face, kicked his shins, and twisted in his grip until he slammed me into the wall hard enough to knock a picture frame down. I kept fighting. Blood from my mouth and his mixed on my skin. He hit me again, open-handed.

"You brave enough to fight me now, bitch?" He hit me with a closed fist when I wouldn't stop.

I went down hard, gasping, one eye already swelling shut.

Kael's voice cut through the room, raw and furious. "Touch her again and I'll gut you slow, you fucking—"

Darius ignored him. He stood over me, breathing hard, wiping blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Stay down."

Kael raised his voice, louder, meaner. "You're a bitch. Cut me loose and fight me—but you won't."

Darius turned on him, face twisted, taking two steps toward the chair. "You think you're better than me? You're just the next one she's gonna run from the second the high of playing house wears off—"

I moved while his back was turned.

I crawled, scrambled, then lunged for the bar. My hand disappeared under the counter and came back up with the compact 9mm Kael kept taped there.

Darius spun at the sound of the slide racking. He snatched a gun from his holster and raised it, smiling again, cocky as ever.

"You won't," he said. "You're still that same scared little girl who used to cry when I—"

I didn't let him finish. I didn't want to hear the end of that sentence. I didn't want to be that girl anymore.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit him squarely in the forehead. It was clean. He dropped as if someone had cut his strings, his gun clattering across the hardwood. Blood sprayed the wall behind him.

I stood there, arm still extended, chest heaving. The gun was steady in my hand. My whole body was shaking, but my grip wasn't.