Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

Alarm crossed his face with his guttural shout. The fact that he could shout at all meant I hadn’t crushed his windpipe. I fisted my left hand and made good use of the extravagant diamond Cristiano had saddled me with. I jammed my wedding ring into the man’s throat over and over until he’d released me completely to grab his own neck. Blood trickled onto me as he wheezed so hard, my own chest went tight.

With a bare foot, I kicked him in the crotch, crawled out from under him, and jumped up. I’d taken only two steps when his hand grabbed my ankle, and I fell forward. My head cracked the mirror. It teetered, and I rolled away a split second before it toppled to the ground.

The short fight had winded me, but he hadn’t gone down yet. Movement from the corner of my eye spurred me to get back up. I grabbed the biggest shard of broken glass within reach and got myself to stand. The moment I was on my feet, the man seized me from behind. He pinned my elbows to my sides with one arm, grabbing at the glass with his other hand. I held onto it until blood dripped down my fingers, but he wrestled it from me and put it to my throat.

“Nobody . . . told me . . . you’d fight back,” he panted, struggling to speak. If his mouth hadn’t been in my ear, I wouldn’t have heard him over the blaring alarm. “Your husband teach you that?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s a nice surprise. Very exciting. But I’ll cut your throat if I really have to.” His front flush against my back, he lifted my chin with the glass as his tone turned from amused to foreboding. “Your husband stole from us. This is the price. For every woman Cristiano took, we’ll kill two inside these walls.”

I’d been in this position before, at the mercy of a menacing man and his whims. And I’d been just as scared.

But Cristiano had taught me a valuable lesson that day he’d simulated jumping me on the lawn.

I was not to be underestimated. I’d survived my time in the Badlands by doing my best to protect myself from every angle—mentally, physically, emotionally. Cristiano had pushed me as far as he could without injury. But now, I had to be willing to get hurt.

I yanked on my attacker’s wrist with all my body weight. The glass sliced the length of my throat as I rotated until the man’s arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. I wrenched it as far back as I could and kneed him in the nose. He stumbled backward through the archways to the balcony as blood gushed from his face.

Run? Or stay and fight? I had to decide—

“Maldita perra.” He charged at me with the shard of glass. “You fucking bitch.”

Too late. I’d broken the first rule Cristiano had ever taught me.

Don’t hesitate.

I covered my face and ducked a second before a gunshot exploded through the room. I lowered my arms as his body jerked and staggered onto the balcony. He coughed, reaching for me, blood gurgling from his mouth.

I wouldn’t hesitate twice.

I sprinted at him and shoved him as hard as I could. He flipped backward over the wall and tumbled down the rocky cliff. His guttural yells echoed through the mountainside until he hit a crag with a thud, and landed on the strip of shore below.

Silence descended. Even the alarms became white noise. I’d killed a man. I hadn’t thought about it. Just rushed him . . . pushed him . . . murdered him.

I clutched my neck. Something warm and sticky filled my palm. I pulled my hand away—blood. He would’ve killed me without a second thought. I didn’t owe him one, but I peered over the edge anyway. There was just enough moonlight to make out his shadowed figure, arms and legs splayed like a broken action figure. A dark shadow seeped over the sand. “Oh my God.”

“He’s dead.” I whirled to find Jaz’s petite frame in the doorway, her gun aimed at me. She raised her voice over the sirens and added, “It’s a long way down.”

A beat passed as we stared at each other. “Thank you,” I said.

She lowered the pistol. “They cut the electricity and killed the generators,” she said. “We have to take the stairs to the panic room.”

“They?”

“There are more men in the house.”

I glanced back over the wall. High tide. The frothy ocean licked at the distorted body on the shore. “He said they’re here for us,” I told her. “The women. As payback.”

“Are you with me?” Jaz asked.

A breeze passed over my half-naked body. “I should—”

“There’s no time,” she said, turning. “Come on.”

She hurried through the room, and I followed as we sprinted down to the second floor. “Wait!” I said at the mouth of the staircase and turned back.