Page 112 of Forbidden Fate

He bares his teeth. “You should have stayed loyal.”

I drive my fist into his face.

His head snaps to the side, blood spraying from his mouth.

He laughs. The sound is wet and ugly.

“Vega knew you’d come here,” he says.

I hit him again.

“Of course you would,” he spits. “Little whorehouse orphan.”

Something animal tears through me. I grab Zabala’s collar and slam his head against the porch.

Once.

Twice.

He bucks beneath me, stronger than I expect, twisting his hips and driving a knee into my stomach. Air leaves my lungs. He rolls, throwing me sideways.

My shoulder hits the floorboards.

He’s on me fast.

Zabala is as strong as he is cruel. I’ve seen him beat men for sport and smile while doing it. He doesn’t fight fair.

He goes for my eyes first.

I jerk my head back.

The punch lands on my throat.

I choke, vision flashing.

He stretches, trying to reach for the gun.

No.

I grab his ankle and yank.

He falls hard, chin cracking against the porch. The gun is three feet away. Maybe less. Too close.

I crawl over him, try to pin him down.

He twists, elbow slamming into my jaw.

Stars burst behind my eyes. For half a second, the world tilts.

Zabala gets a hand around my throat. “You were always soft,” he growls. “Adriana said it. Vega didn’t want to believe her.”

I grip his wrist with both hands, trying to pry him off.

Pressure builds in my skull.

“You liked pretending you were better than us,” he says. “But you were never better.”

My lungs burn.