Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(53)

I could have dealt with him acting like a dick, but there was something in his tone that prickled the hair on the back of my neck. Everything suddenly felt wrong, and my eyes flashed to the door for an escape.

“You need to leave.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re choosing that broke-ass wannabe over . . . me?” He pointed to his chest as he took a menacing step forward that forced me to back against the wall.

“Um, no. I just don’t think this is going to work out.” I inched toward the door.

“Bullshit!” he shouted, leaning close to my face and placing a hand next to my head against the wall. His proximity was intimidating, but it was the absence of emotion in his eyes that sent the red flags flying.

“Backup,” I said with a shaky voice.

“Yes. Let’s.” He laughed. “Let’s back up to when I asked you out, and maybe this time, you tell me the goddamn truth about your relationship with Till f*cking Page.” He bit out his name like it burned on his tongue.

“I didn’t have a relationship with Till when you asked me out. We were just friends.”

“Liar!” he violently roared, spit flying from his mouth.

I glanced up at the ceiling. Yeah, maybe staying in my bedroom was a better course of action. At least Till could hear if things went sour.

“Please leave.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I failed when a scary smile crept across his face.

He leaned in closer, inhaling deeply as he dragged his nose up my neck. “Where’s your boyfriend now?”

“Upstairs. He’s waiting on me. Let’s not make him come down here.” I played innocent, but Derrick knew that it was a threat. And it absolutely was.

His body tightened, and he immediately stepped away. I released a relieved breath, but it was entirely premature, because not even a second later, his fist landed hard against my face. My head snapped to the side as I fell over and collapsed against my easel before crashing to the floor.

“You think I’m f*cking afraid of him?”

I had but one response. “Till!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, banging my hands against the wall. They were stilled as another fist landed against my cheek. My mind lagged as I tried to remain conscious. I needed help, and I knew he was only one paper-thin wall away.

“Till! Help me!” I shouted again, but a boot under my chin silenced any further cries.



“Till! Wake up. Till!”

I felt Quarry shaking my shoulders, but I could barely make out his words. I opened my eyes and saw his mouth moving, but he sounded a million miles away.

“Get up. Something’s wrong with Eliza.” His voice began to drift into clarity.

“What?” I jumped to my feet at the very mention of her name.

“She was screaming for help, so Flint took off and went down there. He told me to wake you up.”

Without another word, I rushed from my room, and just before I hit the front door, I heard a crash in Eliza’s apartment.

“Stay here,” I ordered, taking off down the stairs.

When I rounded the corner, I saw Eliza’s door wide open and heard a commotion. At a dead sprint, I rushed inside without a single fear of what I would encounter. She was in there. That alone was enough to force me into the pits of hell.

“You Page boys really are f*cking stupid! You think you can take me?” Bailey yelled from on top of Flint’s chest, raining punches over his face.

Flint’s hands were raised defensively, but they did little good.

I dived across the room, catching Derrick off guard and knocking him to the floor. I had been livid when I’d seen him hit Flint, but nothing in my rough life could have prepared me for the way I felt when I lifted my eyes to find Eliza beaten, bloody, and curled into a ball in the corner of the room. Her gaze met mine and the dam broke as tears rushed from her eyes. Her body bucked as a sob tore from her throat. It didn’t take long to piece together the situation in front of me.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, knowing exactly what I needed to hear.

As soon as the words cleared her lips, my mind checked out completely. Murder and rage quickly filled the empty space it had left behind.

Derrick was just rising to his feet when I threw the hardest punch of my life. It was packed with more than simple determination to win a fight. It was packed with raw and visceral fury.

My knuckles cracked as they landed on his face. I also felt his cheekbone shatter under the blow, and it fueled me forward. Not a word was spoken by anyone in the room as my left hook landed hard on his kidney. He doubled over right in time for my uppercut to snap his head back. His legs were at least smart, because they carried him away from me as they fought to stay underneath him.

I charged after him, nowhere near done yet.

“You f*cking piece of shit,” I growled, dodging his half-assed attempt at a blow.

“Fuck you. Enjoy my sloppy seconds.” He laughed with false confidence before spitting blood onto the floor.

I cracked my neck. I knew he was lying; he’d never had her. But the poor bastard actually thought he had gotten something from her and, in turn, something from me. He might have briefly touched what was mine, but he’d never had even a tiny morsel of Eliza Reynolds.

I focused to keep my eyes off her, knowing that one more glance would ensure that Bailey ended the night in a morgue. I needed to get to her, but not until he paid.