Take (Need #2)(75)

They’re getting way more comfy looking than I can stand, but I’m still stuck in the droves of idiots who won’t get out of my f*cking way.

A gap finally opens, and I manage to get a parking spot about five in on the farthest aisle.

I’m out of my car as soon as it stops, pulling the keys out and stalking my way over.

There’s only twenty feet between us when I hear the advocacy of death by my hands.

“I want you, Kira, please, give me a chance. Be my girlfriend.”

I don’t know what he’s said to her before I got in range, but his pleas have my fists balled up tight, ready to lay him out in front of everyone. Make an example of him for all f*ckers to see. Mash his face until he’s an unrecognizable, bloody, pulp of a human.

She’s mine.

I don’t know if she responds, but I stop in my tracks as he dips down and presses his lips to hers. She jerks, and tries to pull back, but he’s got her arms in his grip.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” I scream so loud, so harsh, it startles everyone in a fifty-foot radius.

Murder pumps through me, ready to finish this once and for all.

They both jump. Kira’s eyes go wide, while Austin’s harden. He stands straight, chest pumped up, fingers curling into fists as well.

Fucker wants to have it out.

Fine by me.

I finish the gap and we’re here again, facing off, foreheads pressed together while every muscle in our bodies is tensed, waiting to blow.

“Are you really this stupid?” I ask between clenched teeth.

“Brayden, stop!” Kira tries to push us apart, but neither of us is budging.

“Butt the hell out, Hunt,” he snarls. “This is between me and her.”

No, there is nothing between them, and my rage and anger toward him snap, unable to be contained. Pushing against his chest I move him just enough to swing my arm back and fly it forward, connecting with his face.

He falls down to the ground, giving me enough time to step over to Kira, who’s staring down at Austin, hand over her mouth.

“Are you okay?” I ask, drawing her attention back to me.

She nods, her beautiful hazel eyes wide. Another look to the bastard on the ground, one who’s getting up, and she pushes against my stomach.

“Let’s go,” she says, almost frantic.

She’s worried, and rightfully so. Austin glares up at me, stretching his jaw. I don’t even notice the ache in my hand.

“Come on, Brayden.” She’s still trying to get me to move, but it’s not happening.

I pull my car keys out of my pocket and place them in her hand.

“Wait in the car.”

She glares up at me. “What the fu—”

The breath gets knocked out of my lungs as Austin’s football moves come into play, digging his shoulder into my abdomen, a solid hit, sending us both down to the ground.

It’s f*cking hard, concrete scraping against skin, knocking my head at least once. There’s no pause as we pick ourselves up. I grab onto his shirt and jab my fist into his ribs.

“I f*cking told you to stay the f*ck away from her!”

I don’t care that we’ve gained an audience. The sounds of surprise and shock, some egging on, are the soundtrack of my hits connecting, beating into him the ridiculousness of his grievances.

My head is flung to the side as he gets in a blow. I can taste the tang of blood in my mouth, probably from a split lip. Everything is a bit blurry as I turn back to him, my glasses missing.

“She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions,” he says as if that’s some type of argument in his favor.

We’re grappling, stuck in a hand-to-hand struggle, both straining to gain the upper hand.

“Yes, she can, but you can’t seem to take no for a f*cking answer.”

He sneers at me. “She hasn’t told me to leave her alone.”

Fuck! My gaze snaps to her as my chest f*cking clenches at the worst time. She’s horror struck, but staring right at me, not him.

The words may not have passed her lips, but she doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t hang out with him, and most definitely doesn’t have his come inside her.

A strike to my abdomen brings me back to the assclown whose arm I have pinned in place with my own. I grab onto his neck, pushing him away as he gets in another few hits.

“She doesn’t want you.”

With all my force, I swing my fist around and land a punch right at his cheekbone. It sends him stumbling to the ground again.

He spits on the ground, painting the concrete red, and looks up at me. “You’re just a pathetic * who can’t get it through his head that he can’t have his stepsister.”

Rage comes over me again and before he stands back up, I lay him out again.

“You’re the pathetic one who can’t tell when a girl doesn’t want you!”

He bolts up and charges again, digging his shoulder into mine, slamming me into the brick wall. The impact knocks the wind from me and the disorientation gives him time to pummel my sides. It takes more than a few ticks to get my breath and focus back to retaliate.

I swing my elbow into the side of his head repeatedly until he lets go.

He falls back, and we’re grappling for control again,

“You’re in love with your stepsister,” he hisses at me. “Do you understand how sick that is?”