John threw off the vestiges of his vertigo and pounded down to his female, his shitkickers grabbing the ground and holding tight, his thighs shoving all his strength into his feet as he burst into action.
His only thought was of saving Xhex, and he went for the weapon he needed to do the deed with: the six-inch black dagger that was holstered to his chest. As he came up to them, he raised his arm over his head, prepared to fall upon his enemy and stab Lash back to--
The scent of Xhex's blood changed everything, derailing the slice.
Oh, Jesus. . . . The fucking bastard had had two knives. One that had been at her throat. And another that had penetrated her in the gut.
Xhex rolled over on her back, grabbing her side with a grimace.
As Lash writhed and clasped his head and chest, Tohr arrived with Qhuinn and Blay and the other Brothers, all their guns pointed at their enemy, so John didn't have to worry about coverage as he assessed the damage.
John leaned down to Xhex.
"I'm okay," she gasped out. "I'm okay. . . I'm okay. . . . "
The hell she was. She could barely breathe, and the hand that she had against the wound was covered with shiny, fresh blood.
John started to sign frantically. Call for Doc Jane--
"No!" she burst out, grabbing his arm with her bloody hand. "I only care about one thing right now. "
As her eyes locked on Lash, John's heart slammed against his rib cage.
From overhead, Z said, "Butch and V are bringing the Escalade over from the Xtreme Park--motherfucker. . . we got company. "
John glanced down the alley. Four lessers had stepped into view. . . evidence that the address on the Civic's registration had been right, even though the timing was now very wrong.
"We've got 'em," Z hissed as he and the group raced back to engage the new arrivals.
The sound of laughter refocused John. Lash was grinning widely, the unholy anatomy of his face pulled into a crazy-ass smile.
"John, boy. . . I fucked her, John. . . . I fucked her hard and she liked it. "
White rage tore through John, the bonded male in him screaming, the dagger in his hand rising up once again.
"She begged me, John. . . . " The breath that was drawn in was ragged, but satisfied. "Next time you're with her. . . remember I fill--"
"I never wanted it!" Xhex spat. "Never!"
"Filthy female," Lash sneered. "That's what you were and what you'll stay. Filthy and mine--"
Everything slowed down for John, everything from how the three of them were clustered together to the way the wind whiffled through the alley to the fight that had broken out a hundred yards away by the Mercedes.
He thought of his own violation long ago in that stairwell. Pictured Xhex going through similar humiliation and degradation. Recalled what Z had said he'd been through. Remembered what Tohr had suffered.
And in the midst of the recollections, he felt the echo of something long, long ago, something of another abduction, another female hurt wrongly, another life ruined.
Lash's horrific face and his decrepit, melting form became the embodiment of all of it: a festering, rotting, tangible representation of all the evil in the world, all the pain caused with deliberation, all the cruelty and debasement and malicious joy.
All the deeds done in a moment that had repercussions which lasted a lifetime.
"I fucked her, John, boy--"
With a slashing arch, John's dagger arm plunged downward.
At the last second, he twisted his wrist so that the head of the hilt caught Lash right in the face. And the bonded male in him wanted to do what he'd done to that slayer back at the brownstone--nothing but complete evisceration.
Except then he'd be cheating this situation of the kind of divine justice so few people got. His wrong had never been righted--that human piece of shit who'd hurt him had gotten clean away. And Tohr's wrong could never be righted, because Wellsie was never coming back.