Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
But for every step Mercer lost, he gained an inch. His focus switched from defending himself to studying my slovenly swings, then doing his best to deliver it back to me.
His dark hair shone under the foyer lights as I backed him closer to a corner, straining for the finish line where I was the victor, he was dead, and Pim was safe once again.
He was good. Better than good.
But I was better still.
But I was also faking it.
My vision only showed shadows now not full detail. My ears no longer worked. My hands numb. My body a dead weight with injury. I’d been unconscious enough in my life to recognise the warning signs: the chugging breathing but still dying for oxygen. The rapid blinking but still stupidly blind.
I swung another fist, missing even though I was sure on trajectory. It gave Mercer enough time to get one over me, connecting squarely with my temple.
I groaned, slipping closer to the empty cavern inside, greedily pulling me from all angles.
He struck again.
I managed to block and deliver my own temple dusting blow.
Then something wriggled out the corner of my eye, distracting Q just enough for me to land a square pummel to his cheekbone.
He fell to his knees, shaking his head. Blood ran from his nose and corner of his mouth.
I stumbled on the spot, half-awake but mostly dead. Had I won? Did I want to kill him, or was this enough? Would I be satisfied having him kneel, or did I need him in a coffin?
Before I could decide, he spat a wad of blood onto the floor and something triggered in him.
He charged up, growling like a deranged animal, ramming his shoulder into my ribcage and hurling me backward.
I slammed to the ground, utterly robbed of air as my cracked ribs threatened to puncture my lungs.
Sensing my weakness, Mercer straddled me, pressing his knees onto my biceps and pulling out a sharp knife from his waistband.
He had a knife this entire time?
Poor form, fucking cheater.
“Enough.” Pressing the sharp blade against my throat, he hissed, “I said enough.”
Our eyes tangled.
Wolf to wolf.
Dragon to dragon.
I would decide when enough was enough, and this wasn’t it.
With a colossal burst of strength and the final dregs of my energy, I shoved him off me and slammed him onto his back.
Grabbing his neck, I snarled, “You didn’t listen. You didn’t see how much I fucking love her.” Squeezing hard, I begged him to die. “You fucking shot me and took her from me, and now you’ll pay the goddamn price.”
His neck strained beneath my fingers, but he restrained himself from scrabbling at my arms. He stared steadfast while I strangled, understanding that this wasn’t about what he’d done, but what I’d failed to do.
I hadn’t protected Pimlico.
I’d deserved to be shot that night.
If it wasn’t for him, the Chinmoku would’ve killed me and taken Pim. And that truth fucked me up because as much as I wanted to kill this bastard, I also owed him a debt of gratitude.
Men were dogs, and the ones involved with trafficking women ought to be put down with a bullet.
But not me.
And surprisingly, not him.
Beneath his ice-cold temper, there was humanity inside him.
If I needed any other proof, I got it when he glanced to his left, dragging my woozy attention to the audience we’d attracted.
Selix held a gun on a tallish French guy who had a gun trained on me. A standoff while we wrestled on the floor.
Neither Mercer nor myself cared about the men we called our friends. It was the women we called our soulmates who mattered.
Pim stood beside a woman slightly taller than her, their faces white and lips bitten. They hadn’t intervened, but their matching terror spoke of panic barely kept in check.
The blonde couldn’t tear her eyes off Mercer, her hands clutching at the baby crying on her hip.
Shit.
A baby.
Mercer is a goddamn father.
My fingers loosened around his throat, and my mind flickered, unable to fight the tug of blackness.
Feeling my pressure fall from around his larynx, Mercer shoved me off him and stood.
I followed even though it took everything I had left.
Every last shred of energy to stand, face my enemy, and swing one last time.
I swung.
I missed.
I lost consciousness and fell face first into oblivion.
* * * * *
The thick cesspool of fever broke just enough for me to crack open my eyes.
My heart galloped, searching for more energy to finish this fight. But I didn’t wake on hard marble. And no bloody Frenchman waited to kick my ass.
The softest mattress cushioned me, and a gentle hand cupped my cheek.
Voices reached my ears before my vision cleared.
“I don’t know. Should we call Michaels?” Pim’s touch shook on my skin. “I knew he shouldn’t have done this. Look at him.” A catch in her voice hinted at a mix of rage and tears.