Page 151 of Broken & Bound

His chest rose sharply, and he reset his footing.

“The fuck we don’t. I should’ve killed you back at the hospital. And the hell with the rules.”

I couldn’t help the small shake of my head. I slid sideways, forcing him to adjust.

“That isn’t your style. You have got too much honor.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite everything. I watched him overextend ever so slightly.

“Though, I will say your form is slipping.”

“Fuck you!”

He came at me again. This time, neither of us bothered with technique. His fist bounced off my shoulder as I caught his forearm, and we crashed into each other, boots digging into the porch boards as we fought for leverage.

Every muscle in my body strained against his. Our breathing turned ragged and heavy. Neither of us was willing to give an inch.

“You brought that bitch into our lives. She destroyed my sister. You don’t deserve to breathe air,” he said in a low snarl.

I shoved him backward. He stumbled one step before planting his feet again.

“Don’t you think I know that? You think I haven’t replayed every Goddamn decision I’ve made for the last two months? She didn’t just destroy Isabella. She destroyed my entire world. I fucking hate what she did. If I could kill Hannah a thousand times over, I’d do it every single time.”

His answer came in the form of another punch. It caught my ribs this time. Pain exploded through my side. I answered with a hook of my own that snapped his head sideways. Neither of us stopped.

He grabbed the front of my shirt. The fabric stretched, and then ripped. I twisted free of it before he could drag me down with him. We traded blows in brutal silence until exhaustion started replacing precision.

Then, he overcommitted. I slipped outside his reach, drove my shoulder into his upper body, swept his legs out from under him, and sent him crashing onto the porch. I followed him down.

One knee planted against his ribs as I pinned both wrists to the weathered boards. He bucked beneath me with enough force to nearly throw me clear. The bastard was fast like a freight train.

With one violent twist, he launched me off him. I rolled across the porch and scrambled back to my feet before he could capitalize. For a second, neither of us moved. We stood several feet apart, snarling at one another, heaving, sweat dripping, blood running from split lips and scraped knuckles.

The hatred I’d expected to see in his eyes wasn’t there any more. Only grief and exhaustion. We raised our fists again and resumed the dance.

“You ready to talk yet?” I asked.

“Never. I’ll only be satisfied when your body is as broken as my sister’s.”

His fist connected squarely with my cheek. My head snapped sideways. Pain flashed white across my vision. I growled and drove toward him again—

The thunder of hurried footsteps exploded behind us.

“Oh, my God. What is going on?” Tori yelled. “Declan, go to your room now.”

“No. Come here, son. He’s a member of this family and his vote will count,” Marcel exclaimed.

Movement exploded around us. Kinsley and Isabella pushed past Tori at the same time. One moved with purpose. The other with panic. Everything seemed to slow. Kinsley’s hand disappeared beneath the hem of her dress.

A heartbeat later, polished steel flashed in the afternoon light. The knife Ivan had given her—the very one he’d placed on her thigh in this very house—was now gripped in her hand.

“Artist, catch.” With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tossed the blade toward Isabella.

Bella reached instinctively, but her fingers closed on empty air. The knife clattered harmlessly against the hardwood at her feet. Her eyes widened. She stared at it, frozen in place.

Ivan moved. He was fast. Faster than almost anyone I’d ever seen. But somehow, Kinsley was faster. She slipped around his back before his hand could close around her arm. Her fingers found the familiar hilt at his hip.

Steel whispered free from its sheath before she deftly danced away from the giant of a man. He growled at her, but she didn’t even remotely look afraid. She spun back toward us, the blade looking impossibly long in her hand.