Ruin (Rhodes #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,56

strands of her hair to her stained flesh. Her nightgown is torn from behind, the white material of her undergarment on display.

The sinking at the bottom of my stomach heightens. It’s only when Mae’s chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm am I allowed to breathe.

“Wake up, whore!” Hampton pulls Mae by the hair. His dirty hands dare to touch her beautiful strands. The bastard— who is soon to be dead— had the audacity not only to touch her, but to also beat her. Bleed her. Call her a whore. Under my fucking roof.

Adrenaline kicks in with a slamming force. My pulse quickens. A tornado washes the sinking sensation away and replaces it with something I can recognise: pure bloody rage.

I place the knife between my thumb and forefinger and lift my hand to throw it when Mae’s lids flutter open. I pause at their wide dullness. The anguish and fear in them so strong that the sinking in my stomach comes back with vengeance.

Fucking hell.

When she meets my gaze, an illumination strikes their blueness. She opens her mouth but I hold a forefinger to mine and shake my head. Mae clasps her lips shut, tears mix with the blood, staining her face.

Hampton places a knee between her legs as he fumbles with his belt. Trembling takes over her entire body. Mae’s gaze searches mine, a silent plea for help leaves her eyes in the form of unstoppable tears.

No thoughts. No hesitation.

With a flick of my wrist, the knife’s sharp edge plunges deep into Hampton’s internal carotid artery. He falls backwards. Immediate cerebral inperfusion. Blood abandons his rotten brain.

In a few steps, I reach him, my hand on another blade’s handle. Blue creeps into his frozen face. His bulging eyes look at me as if I’m death itself.

I thrust another knife into his chest. The sound of sharp metal breaking his tendons to reach his faint beating heart makes me smile. I twist the knife in the muscle with slow motion until it stops beating. His disgusting face becomes a permanent shade of blue.

A loud gasp fills the silence of the room. My head turns to the source.

Mae sits asymmetrically, keeping her weight on the left side. Hair wild, her limbs tremble, and both her scratched hands block her mouth. Her frantic eyes look at me in an expression I can’t quite fathom.

I got so engrossed in finishing the pig I almost forgot about her. She watched me kill the insect, didn’t she? Damn. That’s not a sight for someone in her state, isn’t it?

I walk to her, slow to not alarm her. How in the living hell does someone deal with these situations?

Be a gentleman. It always works.

I remove my jacket and put it on her naked shoulders. She doesn’t look at me. Her focus is on Hampton’s corpse as if she’s seeing his ghost.

Crouching in front of her, I gently remove her hands from her bloodied mouth.

“Are you fine, Mae?” My calm voice is a mask to the still-burning lava coursing through my veins, refusing to leave my system. I know she still has her undergarments on, but the mere thought of that bastard doing anything to her makes me yearn to give him back his life so I could take it all over again.

Her gaze meets mine, but she says nothing. The emptiness that taints their blueness fuels the sinking at the bottom of my stomach. She glances between me and Hampton’s corpse, probably trying to reason what she saw.

My fingers brush under her chin and, with a tender lift, I bring her attention to my face. “Focus on me, Mae. Can you do that?”

She slowly nods.

“I will carry you out now, all right?”

Mae nods again, her lips twitching.

After releasing her chin, I put one hand behind her back and the other under her legs. I lift her in my arms, careful not to touch her injured side.

As I march down the hallway, Mae closes her eyes, body trembling in my hold. She sniffs every now and then but no tears come out. There’s nothing more hideous than the blood tarnishing her beautiful features and the side of her neck. I never thought my eyes would perceive blood negatively. Not until now.

“Sir.” Kane runs towards me, stops, his chest heaving. “Is she...”

“Fine.” I grit out.

He heaves a