Page 45 of Chaos

He’s my brother, but now he’s no better than dirt to me.

His eyes only have a split second to widen before my ringed fist finds his jaw, knocking his head backwards, followed by his body.

Another punch lands to his ribs before he hits the sidewalk.

I grab up his shirt, lifting his shoulders so his nose is only inches from mine.

“I thought I told you to never fucking speak to her again? Did you think I’d forget?” My next hit lands on his cheekbone. I can feel it splinter from the force.

His hands fly up, trying to block my blows, but he’s no boxer.

Heavy footsteps distract me just long enough to see the two goons cutting around my still running car and heading for me.

I drop Brody like the piece of garbage he is and come up swinging.

The first catches the full force into his nose and blood sprays all over his chest. My fingers claw into the jacket of the next, tearing the fabric off in a chunk before my knee slams into the soft meat of his belly.

He doubles over with a grunt, falling to his knees while the other still whimpers, holding his nose.

Brody groans and rolls onto his stomach. “You’re gonna pay for this, brother. This isn’t your business.”

“When you fucked with Sofia, you made it my business. She’s mine.”

Is she?

At least, as far as he’s concerned, she is.

“Why the hell do you care about her? You don’t even know her!” Brody coughs out.

I step forward, towering over him with a smirk.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know her really well. In fact, I have since the night of your wedding.”

His dark curls plaster to his forehead as he shakes his head, his face paling as he realizes what I mean.

“You motherfucker.” He spits out as he pushes himself up to his knees.

Before he can launch himself at me, I forcefully kick him in the chest, knocking him back down and stamping my foot on his throat.

“I think you mean, wife-fucker.”

His nostrils flare as he claws at my calf, and I laugh. Pathetic.

“I won’t let you hurt her again. Brother.” I spit out the last word. “Now, get out of here and don’t come back, or else next time, you won’t be getting back up.”

I release my hold on his neck, kicking up dust into his face.

Brody pushes himself unsteadily to his feet. Blood runs down his face, and one eye is already swelling shut.

He tugs his vest tighter over his chest and helps his buddy to his feet.

Their bikes spit up gravel as they rally away.

My hand is sore where I hit him, so I flex my fingers to work out some of the pain. That’s when I notice the other is still clenched around the tattered piece of clothing.

A scythe.

Fuck.