I underestimated my enemy and that was my mistake. One that I’ll get to correct now that he’s distracted.
I take a deep breath and use my fists to push myself to my knees. I close my eyes for a moment and spit blood out of my mouth, a little woozy, and a hell of a lot angrier than I was before.
With a grunt, I force myself back onto my feet and ball my fists at my side. I’m going to kill him, and I’ll be damned if I give a fuck that there’s a witness to it.
Just as I start moving toward him, a young man leans his head into the building and looks at me.
He looks sad.
Beaten down, worse for wear, and a little lost. But when he turns his eyes toward Lakyn again, they come into focus.
I know that feeling.
It happened to me with Penn the first time he kissed me and that means that this has to be—
What was his name again?
“Ichabod?” I ask tentatively.
He turns his green eyes toward me again when I say his name and arches an eyebrow.
It is him.
Lakyn’s obvious weakness is standing in front of me and now I’ll have the upper hand once and for all.
“Come in,” I tell him softly, gesturing with my hand.
* * *
Ichabod’s standing inside my building. He’s next to Lakyn who’s watching me with dangerous eyes and that little smirk that he thinks is so damn charming.
“Leave him out of this,” he warns, holding up a finger.
“Like you did with Penn?” I ask him softly.
I clench my fists at my sides.
The cobwebs are gone.
The focus is back.
And my enemy stands before me with a little dilemma he hadn’t planned on, by his side.
“Um, I don’t know what’s going on,” Ichabod begins slowly, “but I’m pretty sure I can take a guess. Can I just get my friends so we can leave, please?”
He doesn’t even look at me.
He lowers his eyes when he makes his plea and in a way, I kind of feel for him. If this young guy is a product of what happens when you spend too much time around Lakyn, I think I’d be doing him a favor by finishing the prick off.
“It’s not that easy,” I tell him softly, as I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
I move quickly, reach forward and grab Lakyn by his throat. I begin to dig my fingers into the fleshy part of his throat, cutting off his oxygen and watching the life starting to fade from his eyes. He’s doing his best to fight back—clawing at my wrists, but I refuse to let up.
I can’t.
In only a few hours, he’s caused so much damage to me, my relationship with Penn, and he can’t walk away from that like it never happened.
Ichabod stands idly by.