Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

I climb to my feet, breaths burning over my lips. “Run to your dad.” I don’t take my eyes off the fucker, but not hearing Finlay move, I shout, “Go Finlay. Get out of here!”

His eyes lock on her, making me charge him with a roar. The punch I deliver sends him sprawling over the floor. He grips a splintered piece of wood from the broken kitchen table. When he rushes me, I grab one of the kitchen chairs and break it over his head.

Knowing I have to end this before Finlay gets hurt, I take hold of his shoulders and slam my knee into his stomach. His hand comes down, swinging the piece of wood toward my side. I grab hold of his forearm, twist, and shove, bone snapping in half. He staggers back, a look of shock rippling over his face. Only then do I see what I did. When I shoved his arm, the piece of wood stabbed into his stomach.

My eyes lock with his for an enraged moment, then I lunge at him. My hand wraps around the wood as my arm goes around his neck. I yank it out before plunging it back into his body.

His face strains, his bloody lips pulling away from his teeth, his eyes burning into mine.

“She’s mine,” I hiss breathlessly. Yanking the splintered stake out, I bury it in his side, hoping to God I hit his lung or heart.

His body loses strength, and when I pull my arm away from his neck, he slides down to the floor, landing on his knees. Blood sputters from his mouth, and he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’ll… never love… her… the way… I do.”

Crouching, I catch his gaze. “You’re right. My love doesn’t kill her.”

He gasps, more blood spraying from his mouth before he slumps to his side, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Finlay,” I say, not taking my eyes off the fucker. “Call the sheriff.” I suck in a breath of air. “And my dad.”

“M-my p-phone is g-gone,” she stammers behind me, fear clawing at her words.

“Run to your dad. Get him to call.” I have no fucking idea how my mind is so clear.

How am I able to think rationally while I watch him grunt through his last breaths?

His eyes are wide as they search for Finlay. I grab hold of his jaw, turning his face to me. “You don’t get to look at her.” I hold his gaze. “Finlay’s mine.”

Rage burns in his eyes one last time, like a flame surging before being snuffed out. An eerie gasp hisses from him, and I yank my hand away from his face. His eyes seem to widen even more before they freeze.

Moving to my knees, I slump back onto my haunches, my arms hanging limply at my sides while I look at the man I just killed.

There’s no regret for the life lost.

There’s no guilt.

There’s only intense relief shuddering through my body, knowing he can never hurt Finlay again.

Chapter 29

FINLAY

I’m in shock.

Ethan’s in shock.

We’re both just staring at the body on the kitchen floor.

I see the cracked and bloody mask. The black clothes. The broken arm lying at an odd angle. The beaten face and lifeless eyes. The piece of wood embedded into his side.

He doesn’t look like a monster anymore. I also don’t recognize him and wonder why he came after me.

I feel something physically click back into place as if a piece of me has returned to my soul.

Ethan’s the first to move, walking to me and wrapping me against his chest, blocking my view of the body.

A relieved breath shudders from him, then he starts to press kisses to my hair. “Are you okay?”

I nod, my emotions still numb. In the safety of Ethan’s arms, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up to everything that’s happened.

He’s dead.

Relief overwhelms me, and I grab hold of Ethan, the cry leaving me releasing the ungodly horror I’ve been living in.

I no longer have to fear he’ll rape me again.

He can never hurt me again.

I glue myself to Ethan, the love I feel for him drowning the last of the terror inside me.

Ethan protected me. He fought like I’ve never seen anyone fight before – for me. He killed for me.

I push my arms up and wrap them tightly around his neck, pulling my body up against his. “Thank you,” I breathe. “Thank you.”

Ethan lifts me off my feet and carries me out of the house. Standing on the porch, he keeps holding me, and there’s still so much strength in him.

I can’t make myself pull away from him. I never want to let go of him.

“I love you so much,” I sob, the relief pushing tears to the surface. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he whispers, his arms tightening around me even more. His hold borders on painful, but I don’t care.