Page 27 of Illicit Obsession


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I used the body like a battering ram, slamming the dead weight into my enemy. He fell back as he lost his balance. The gun clattered to the concrete floor, and the body pinned him for a precious second.

I hauled the dead man away, discarding the corpse like garbage. The older man was covered in gore, but none of the blood belonged to him. I’d fix that. But before I allowed him to die, he would suffer. He’d touched her. He’d wanted to rape her.

“She’s mine,” I snarled and plunged my blade into his gut.

He’d thought he could hurt what was mine. He’d thought he could take her from me.

He hadn’t known who he’d provoked.

“Did you like her fear?” I growled, wrenching the knife free so I could drive it deep into his belly again. “Did you enjoy her screams?” I slowed my actions, pushing the blade upward. I made him watch as I tore him open from navel to sternum, revealing his shredded guts. “Who’s screaming now?”

He wasn’t capable of releasing another scream. He choked on blood, the wet sound echoing off the concrete walls. His entire, ruined body shuddered as death neared. Just before the life left his eyes, I drove my blade between his legs, severing his flaccid cock. He’d thought he could violate her. He’d never touch her.

His eyes flew wide in his final expression of abject horror, and then his face went utterly still, perpetually frozen in agony.

Both of my enemies were dead. I had to get Evelyn somewhere safe. There might be other soldiers nearby, and they wouldn’t stop to ask me questions when they saw the macabre mess I’d made of their friends.

I picked up the rifle and slung it over my shoulder, arming myself in case more men came pouring into the building, drawn by the gunshots and screams.

I turned to her, and my stomach dropped. Her dress was torn, and she clutched at the frayed silk in an attempt to cover herself. Blood splattered her pale cheek, and my fear grew black claws, digging into my chest so that each breath was agony.

“Evelyn.” Her name was a garbled exhale. She might be bleeding. I didn’t know what they’d done to her before I arrived, but I’d heard her cry out my name in desperate terror. There had been gunfire.

I dropped to my knees beside her. A pained whimper like an injured animal slipped between her parted lips, and she scrambled back. Away from me.

Her lovely eyes were wide with horror, her pupils dilated with fear.

I suddenly became aware of the gore that coated my hands and forearms. My face felt tight and sticky. I hadn’t wanted her to see me like this, but that choice had been taken from me the moment I’d heard her scream.

“Farfallina…” I rasped, reaching for her again.

She shook her head and scooted back, struggling to hold her dress closed and put distance between us at the same time.

For an awful moment, I saw my mother’s face, her caramel eyes wide with horror as she took in the bloody, broken bottle clenched in my fist. My act of violence was the last thing she’d seen, and it’d broken something inside her.

The black claws of fear ripped at my lungs, scoring deep enough to cut into my heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I swore, my voice tight with pain.

Her petrified gaze swept over the ruined bodies of the men who’d assaulted her. Her throat convulsed, and she vomited—a visceral reaction of physical revulsion.

As she shook and gasped for air, I gathered her up in my arms. She thrashed, but I held her firmly to my chest.

“I have to get you out of here.” The words were harsh, desperate.

She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut tight, as though she couldn’t bear to look at me. Her delicate fingers fisted in her torn dress, as though the flimsy fabric would shield her from me.

My heart shredded. I couldn’t draw full breaths.

I forced in oxygen and focused on my surroundings. Protecting Evelyn was all that mattered.

As I nudged open the door and assessed the situation outside the building, I saw an armored SUV pull up and skid to a stop. Before I could decide whether or not to set Evelyn down so that I could grab my rifle, Adrián got out the vehicle. He’d clearly had the same idea to enlist the help of the authorities in searching for Evelyn. He would’ve arrived too fucking late.

I shouldered the door open and stepped out into the night, confident that no one would attack us while he was present. He took one look at Evelyn cowering in my arms, clutching at her torn dress, and his face tightened into an almost feral mask.

“Who?” he demanded. Men on his payroll had assaulted my woman. It was his duty as my friend to make them pay.

“I handled it,” I growled.

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