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They laugh, the sound grating on my nerves. “Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it?” one of them sneers.
With a small smile, I reply, “You’ll see. You’ve messed with the wrong person.”
They scoff, dismissing my words as bravado. “You think you can take us on?” another taunts, stepping closer and he shakes my chair.
I meet their challenge with a chilling smile, then without warning, I flex my muscles and snap the ropes binding me and head butt the man in front of me. They all stumble back in shock, their faces contorting with disbelief and fear. I rise to my feet slowly, the ropes falling away like cobwebs.
“What the fuck—” one of them begins, but I cut him off with a swift, calculated move. My fist connects with his jaw, the impact satisfyingly solid. He staggers back, blood streaming from his split lip.
The fight erupts in a blur of motion. I move with precision and ruthless efficiency, channeling suppressed rage and years of training. Every strike is calculated, every move designed to kill. Bones crunch under my fists, and the air fills with grunts of pain.
I disarm one of them, using the crowbar against them with a swift, decisive blow. Another lunges at me with a knife, but I evade it and disarm him with a quick twist. The fight becomes a dance of violence where I’m coordinating their expiration.
Blood stains the dirt floor of the barn. My mind is focused, my senses heightened. I feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long time, each strike fueling the fire burning within me.
One by one, I take them down, each blow more brutal than the last. Their curses turn to cries of pain and pleas for mercy, but I’m beyond mercy now. This is pure and primal, a male defending his female.
The last man falls to his knees, defeated and broken. He gasps for breath, his eyes wide with terror as he realizes the depth of his mistake. I stand over him, breathing heavily, my fists stained with blood.
“Never underestimate a pretty face,” I say softly, my voice carrying a cold finality.With one swift blow, it’s over.
The barn falls silent, the only sound the harsh rasp of my own breath. I turn to Solange, still unconscious and I rush to her side. I cut the ropes binding her, then slide my hands all over her to check if she really is unharmed. Relief floods me when I realize that she is and I clutch her to me, rocking her back and forth to get her to wake up.
***
Solange
I wake to a dull ache pulsing through my head, my vision blurred and disoriented. The first thing I see is Asher’s face, his eyes filled with concern as he looms over me. Confusion floods my mind—what happened? Why am I not tied up anymore? And where are the men?
“Asher?” My voice trembles as I try to sit up, but he gently presses me back down.
“Take it easy,” he murmurs, his touch reassuring as he helps me into a sitting position. “You fainted.”
I nod, tears stinging my eyes as I try to piece together the fragments of memory. The fear and helplessness wash over me again, and I find myself trembling uncontrollably. Asher pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly as I bury my face against his chest, seeking solace in his embrace.
“What happened?” I manage to choke out between sobs, my voice muffled against his shirt. “Oh shit…” I gasp, tears flowing freely now as I take in the scene around us. The barn looks like a slaughterhouse. Dead, mutilated bodies everywhere.
Asher’s hand finds mine, squeezing it gently. “I’m so sorry you had to see this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
I swallow hard, my mind reeling with disbelief and horror. Part of me wants to run, to escape from this nightmare. But another part of doesn’t know anything else than cling to Asher.
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammer, my voice shaky. “How did this happen?”
Asher’s grip tightens around me, his voice surprisingly steady. “They started arguing among themselves,” he explains, his words careful and measured. “Then they got violent with each other and things got out of hand.”
I pull back slightly, studying his face. His expression is earnest, his eyes filled with honest concern. I want to believe him, to trust that he’s telling me the truth. But the sight of the bodies strewn across the barn floor, lifeless and still, makes my stomach churn with dread. How could they have done this to themselves?
Swallowing, I whisper, ”You have some blood on your face…”
Asher shifts, quickly brushing it off, his demeanour neutral. ”Don’t worry, it’s not mine.”
I nod numbly, despite the doubt lingering in the back of my mind. He helps me to my feet, steadying me as I wobble unsteadily. Together, we make our way towards the barn door, the light filtering through the cracks in the wood.
I want to lean on Asher for support but when he attempts to pull me closer, I quickly make an excuse that I need to use my legs. Asher doesn’t say anything and walks ahead, his posture strong and confident, but my mind is a whirlwind of doubts and questions.
I steal glances at his back, the image of the barn and the bodies haunting my thoughts. His explanation echoes in my mind, but things don’t up. The ease with which he explained what had happened, the way he seemed almost unfazed by the violence—it doesn’t fit with the Asher I thought I knew.
“Home sweet home.” Asher’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I realize we’ve reached the cabin. He turns to face me, something obscure etched on his features.
