Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Come on, Pop. You’re not going to hurt your only son for some worthless bitch.”
Another punch. This time to his right temple. “Say another derogatory thing about her. Do it, Paulie. I’ve been itching for a good fight.”
“I’m your son.”
“Not anymore. I don’t want anything to do with a piece of shit like you. Get the fuck out of my house.”
Paul looks at Isla. “Let’s go, Isla.”
“Not her, Paul.” I tug at Isla’s waist, pulling her toward me. “Just you. Isla is staying here.”
“Is that what all this is about? You wanna fuck her, Dad? She has a tight little cunt, and I don’t mind sharing her. In fact, I was working on a deal to have some men fuck her for cash. You’d be surprised how many ask about her.”
I lunge toward Paul, and we crash to the ground as my fists connect with his face repeatedly. “Who the fuck are you, Paul? Who the fuck are you?” My voice is loud. The rage I was controlling a moment ago has been unleashed, and there’s no turning back.
Small hands tug at my shoulders. “Please stop. Bryce, stop. You’re going to kill him.” Isla’s soft voice echoes behind me.
I ignore her pleas and focus on my worthless son’s limp body. He’s not dead, but a few more strategically placed punches, and he will be.
I fist his collar and shake him, pulling him up so his face is millimeters from mine. “You’re gonna leave here alone and never contact her again. If you even think about her, I’ll fucking hunt you and put you down. I don’t care that you’re my son, just like I didn’t care that he was my father. Nod if you understand me?”
Paul moves his head up and down once, and I release his shirt, letting him hit the ground with a thud.
I turn to Isla. She’s shaking, and her fingers are nervously intertwined. “You all right?”
She steps back from me and nods slightly.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Chapter Three
ISLA
I won’t hurt you. I promise.
How do I convince myself of the validity of those words from the mouth of the man who pulverized his son in front of me? Because from what I witnessed and the evidence of Paul’s blood covering Bryce’s hands and the floor beneath me, Bryce could not only hurt me but also demolish me far worse than Paul ever has.
The way his rage unleashed on Paul was horrific. There was no hesitation, no remorse. He went at Paul like a feral animal. His own son. Not that Paul doesn’t deserve it—he does. There was satisfaction in seeing him humiliated on the ground, whimpering and scared. But Paul is also Bryce’s son. Anger and violence seem to be familiar traits.
Paul gets up from the floor, and I notice he’s holding an oval-shaped glass vase. “Bryce, watch out!”
Bryce moves swiftly and barely misses getting whacked in the face. Paul’s swings are erratic, his fingers barely holding on to the rim of the crystal. A loud crash is followed by the spray of small crystal pieces across the floor.
Bryce is on Paul again, attacking him worse than earlier. He isn’t holding back. I thought he was vicious before, but now he’s a monster. The loud thud of Paul’s head on the floor makes me gasp. I’m sure he’s capable of ripping Paul limb from limb. Bryce’s fist hits Paul’s face, one punch after another. Oh, God. He’s going to kill him.
My feet move on their own, almost gliding on the floor. I’m unsure what I’m doing, but I wrap my arms around Bryce’s bicep and tug. “Please stop.”
Bryce doesn’t listen to me. It’s as if there's nothing but his rage. “Please, Bryce. You’ll kill him. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you do. He’s your son.”
Bryce growls. “He’s nothing to me.” He rolls off of Paul and gets to his feet. Paul wheezes as Bryce places his tattooed hand around his throat and drags him toward the front door. “Open the door, Isla.”
I do as I’m told, afraid to do anything but obey this man. My fear of Paul was crippling, but his father? The man is a whole other beast in his brutality.
I rush toward the large door and place my hand on the knob, turning it, not daring to refuse Bryce in his current state.
He tosses Paul out the door in an impressive display of pure strength for his age. “If I ever see you again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. The only reason you aren’t dead is because you’re my creation, but I swear to God you don’t want to test me, Paulie.”
I start to leave after Paul, but Bryce clamps onto my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going, Isla?”
“I-I just…I think I should leave.”
“No,” he growls. “I invited you for dinner, and you’ll stay and eat.”