Page 174 of Sinful Lord

All I can do is watch as Krol quickly finds his knife and starts to crawl through the broken glass toward Tytus’ turned over body. My monster’s broad shoulders heave. A heavy groan slips from his lips, cutting through the raging wind.

“Watch out!” I cry out. But I doubt he hears me.

Snow whips over my aching body. I frantically shake at my restraints. Krol lifts his knife. But just before he can lunge it into his brother’s back, Tytus snaps around and grabs his wrist.

The tip of the sharp blade trembles just above Tytus’ throat as the two men struggle for control.

Luckily, my monster is stronger. With a loud roar, Tytus manages to fling Krol off him. The fucker slides across the floor until his back hits the far wall.

Somehow, Krol manages to hang onto his knife. It’s all that protects him as Tytus lunges himself at his long-lost brother.

“You fucking bastard!” Krol screeches, waving his knife in the air. “You’ve taken enough from me.”

I watch in horror as Tytus slams his shoulder into Krol’s gut, pinning him against the wall. The force is enough to rattle the entire penthouse. The painting dislodges, sliding sideways down the wall until it collapses to the floor, blocking us off from Rian and Roz and Gabriel.

It's just the three of us now.

Tytus shouts something in response to Krol’s claim, but I can’t make out what he says against the howling wind. Whatever he it is, though, it clearly enrages Krol, because his knife comes barreling down into Tytus’ back.

It’s like I’m ripped from reality. Everything around me disappears as Krol stabs Tytus between the shoulder blades, over and over again.

Then, it all comes rushing back.

“You don’t get to decide my fate,” Tytus booms. With an ear-shattering roar, he lifts Krol up the wall. His grip is so strong that Krol can’t escape, not even as he continues to stab at him.

With a primal grunt, Tytus throws Krol across the room.

The bloody knife careens out of Krol’s fingers as he hits the glass covered floor. Tytus grunts and groans, pushing himself along the wall.

“Tytus,” I sob, watching as my injured beast almost slips in his own blood. His shirt is soaked through with dark scarlet stains.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Krol rages. My mouth goes dry when I see that he’s picked up the gun that had fallen out of his hand earlier.

It lifts again, aiming toward the only man who has ever truly understood me. I want to scream, but dread clogs my throat.

“Fuck you,” Tytus grimaces. Without fear, he moves for Krol. He’s not scared.

But I am.

“Please,” I barely manage to squeak.

All of a sudden, I feel a bullet hiss over my shoulder. It hits Krol directly in the hand.

“Fuck!” he curses. The weapon drops. Krol tries to go after it, but he doesn’t get far.

“You should have stayed dead.”

Tytus voice is so low and rumbling it shakes my soul. He grabs Krol by the collar and lifts him from the floor.

Blood trickles from my wounded beast as he cocks back his fist.

“You should have—” Krol doesn’t get a chance to finish.

Tytus’ fists connects with his already broken face. Something cracks. Tytus doesn’t stop. Without flinching, he punches Krol again, then again, and again… beating the demon’s head until it’s nothing more than a bloody pulp.

But Krol isn’t dead yet. His mangled hands still twitch and claw at Tytus as he’s held like a shattered ragdoll.

Slowly, Tytus looks over at me. Those silver-blue eyes send a warm chill over my skin.