Page 49 of Savage Protector

Dominic scoffed. “Get real. Do you think I would bring a gun into this house? Until two minutes ago, he was a father to me,” he snarled, looking toward Dad.

I waved Karl off. “Keep my gun trained on him,” I advised just the same. “He pulls one, take him out.”

“Well. You thought it all out, haven’t you? When’s the last time you had to fight for yourself?” Dominic asked, raising his fists, turning to the side.

“All you seem to be able to do is beat on women and execute retirees,” I reminded him with a smile, stepping closer until he was within striking distance. “I’ll be just fine.”

“And if I didn’t come here alone?” he asked.

“You’re alone now.” I raised my fists. “Come at me.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” In a flash, he reached down into his boot and withdrew a switchblade he flipped open while wearing a cold grin. Dad grunted, but I ignored his reaction. I could handle a knife.

Dominic lunged, jabbing the long blade at my midsection. I jumped back before landing a right hook against his jaw that made him stumble backward before he caught himself. He brought the blade around in a clumsy arc I easily avoided. He was as graceful as a bull in a china shop, thanks to rage and betrayal clouding his judgment.

“Can’t fight with your fists, pussy?” I taunted, waiting until he was close enough to land a left against his chin before I fell back a step out of his reach. Making him chase me, which he did, he took a few lumbering steps before catching my shoulder with the tip of the knife. It was barely a scratch, but he let out a triumphant growl before coming at me again, thrusting the blade my way, the cut on his chin oozing blood that dripped on his shirt.

Pain lanced me when he made contact with my lower right side. I winced but used his closeness against him, wrapping my left arm around his right bicep, taking hold of his wrist with my right hand. Holding him in place, his chest against mine, he fought uselessly to free himself.

I could have squeezed hard enough to make him drop the knife. I could have.

Instead, I bent his arm, forcing the knife in toward his body. Slowly. He struggled, pushed back, and could have dropped it at any time.

There was one moment—the length of a heartbeat—when our eyes locked. I saw the fear there. I saw everything he could have been. The friend he used to be. The potential that had been wasted.

I saw who he was today before sliding the bloodstained knife between his ribs and slashing him open.

Taking a deep breath, I watched the emotions that passed over his face—surprise, followed by pain, followed by grim certainty. I saw it unfold, watching him realize his life was over before I slid the knife free so blood could pour over his pale blue shirt. He had already known he wouldn’t make it out of this room. He could’ve dropped the knife.

Instead, he dropped to his knees, pressing a hand uselessly against the flood soaking into the shirt and spilling onto his pants. “As usual, you had to take things too far,” I told him, watching as he fell to his side. The color drained from his face, leaving him a little paler with every beat of his heart. “It’s the last lesson you’ll ever learn.”

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling, his breathing more shallow now. Strained. I lowered myself to one knee, enjoying every moment more than I should have. It never had to be this way. He did this.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I asked, staring into his face, watching the life leach out of him. “I told you I would watch you take your last breaths. I told you the last thing you would ever see is my smile. And here we are.”

Glancing up at Dad, I whispered, “Say hi to your dad for me when you get there. He died like the rat he was. I was there.”

He bared his teeth, panting weakly, his eyes searching my face. “Fuck… you…” he whispered before coughing and sending blood running down the sides of his face.

To the end, he had to play the tough guy.

“Whatever you say.” And as I watched, the light faded from his eyes, they went unfocused, staring at something over my shoulder before he released one final breath.

It was over.

Witnessing his final breath drained me of what little strength I had left. I fell to my side, the room suddenly spinning while the entire world went foggy.

“Grayson!” Dad’s voice rang out, sharp, getting louder as he came closer. “What is it?”

Looking at my torso, I finally realized the problem. I had dismissed it before now, but there was no dismissing the blood soaking through my shirt from under the hand I’d pressed against the knife wound. There was so much of it, coating my fingers in warmth. Dad shouted orders, his voice distorted now, fading.

“Tell Scarlet,” I whispered, fighting for the breath to speak while everything went fuzzy. “Tell her… she’s safe.”

Then I closed my eyes, now so heavy, and was glad I did when I saw Scarlet before me. Her hazel eyes sparkled, her face shone in peaceful happiness. If I could only touch her one more time…

She was safe.

I did it.