CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE MONSTER
PAST
STEPHAN
Bianca and I had been doing quite well for a while. Longer than usual in the system without any problems. In foster care, both going to the same public school. We'd managed to stay together, which was the important part. We had a roof over our heads and food.
We were staying with a couple that owned a small restaurant, and we both worked there after school. They weren't supposed to make us work, we were too young, but they were keeping us together, so we didn't mind. I bussed tables, did dishes, and Bianca served food.
Neither of us had a problem with the arrangement, usually. Both of us had had to endure so much worse, in the past.
I was a little annoyed with the situation today, though. I'd had to stay after school for a project and wanted Bianca to stay with me.
We didn't like to be apart. Not ever.
But our foster caregivers had needed her to work right after school, so she'd left without me.
It made me antsy, for more reasons than I could name, one of which being that it just felt wrong.
I got out of there as fast as I could manage, hurrying to the restaurant. I went my normal route, using an alley, and cutting directly to the back entrance.
I heard before I saw.
All the times I'd ever fought, all the reasons I'd done it for, I'd never experienced the blind, all-consuming rage I did when I realized what was going on. Not even close.
And it was a fact I had a horrible temper.
I heard some grunts of noise up ahead, folded around a corner, out of sight.
They sounded off. I didn't like them right away. They came from him, I'd piece together later.
If it'd come from her, I would have known instantly, and acted accordingly.
Another noise I didn't like followed quickly, the sound of something punching flesh, a hard hit on a soft target.
I winced. Someone was fighting, and I wondered if I'd have to become involved. It would really just depend on the situation, I mused.
A growl came next, and then a curse from a low, hard, accented voice.
I quickened my step. Something I'd heard had jarred the edge of a memory, enough so that I was starting to react before I processed. To panic before I knew.
And then I heard it, just before I turned the corner. Heard her. Her cry. Her cry of pain.
I broke into a run, making my way around the bend with a few quick strides.
And saw them. Bianca on the ground, her hair trailing into her face as she curled into a ball to protect herself from the next vicious kick. A brute of a blond man standing over her. A monster. The monster. I'd heard enough of a description and saw enough of a resemblance to know it right away.
Her father, come to hurt her.
He never landed that kick
I roared like a maniac and charged.
I hit him in the midsection and took him down. Hard. We fell away from Bianca, clearing her of harm, which had been the point.
I reared back to punch, but his fist met my face first.
He wasn't going to take this lying down, and he was a huge motherfucker.
I wasn't daunted. Hatred fueled me, and hate was impervious to intimidation.
He'd put hands on her. I couldn't stand the thought. All I knew for sure was I'd make him pay. I'd make him hurt. I'd make him regret it.
I tucked my head down and started punching, fast vicious jabs to his gut that were designed to do the most damage. I'd tenderize his insides until he pissed blood for a month.
A meaty fist caught the side of my head, but I just kept hitting and hitting, curses spewing from me. He was huge, and strong, but not fast. I was all of those things and feeling no pain at the moment, to boot.
I'd demolish him, or die trying, I swore then and there.
His next hit caught me in the temple, and I saw stars, but it didn't slow me down. Instead, it set me off.
I took a cheap shot, punching him in the groin.
He yelped like a wounded animal.
I did it again, and again, then went for his face. I held myself up on one arm and did as much damage to it as I could before he managed to stumble away, staggering up to his feet.
I rose to join him. I spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, shrugged my shoulders to loosen them up, and smiled at the bastard.
He shot me an assessing look that held more than an ounce of approval in it. The man respected a good fighter. It was likely the only thing he respected, the piece of shit.
"That's my daughter," he told me, his voice deep and scratchy, his accent thick. "This is family business. You do not need to interfere."
I saw red, and with a roar, charged again.
"She's my family, you bastard!" I cursed him, shoving him up against the wall of the building. "I'll kill you if you ever lay a hand on her again! I'll kill you, you bastard. I swear it!" I was screaming by the end, spittle flying, hands going for his throat and squeezing.
He was turning blue before he managed to dislodge me. Another blow to the head that I'd feel later.
Later. But not now.
Now I caught his face with four knuckles with enough force to knock out some teeth.
"You her boyfriend?" he asked me, gasping it out.
"I'm her family," I shouted, moving in close to start in on his stomach. It was my most vicious move, usually a last resort, but always effective.
I started working at him again, same spot as before, with a mind for doing some permanent damage. I grunted with the force of the quick fire blows, just wailing on him.
He growled, grabbed my hair, and started punching the side of my head.
I had to retreat. Too many more hits like that, and he'd knock me out. That was not an option.
I looked around, searching for something to bludgeon him with. I wasn't trying to fight fair. I wanted to destroy the bastard, by any means necessary.
There was a jagged wooden plank sitting on top of a dumpster, thin enough to grab and swing. Perfect. I went for it, grabbing it and swinging it around just before he hit me, taking me back and slamming me into the wall.
I dropped the plank, throwing my arms up to protect my head.
I'd gone into defense mode, and I wasn't happy about it. With a roar, I head butted him, shoving as hard as I could.
He sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, and I went for the board.
I swung with all my might, catching him hard on the shoulder as he rose, my body rocking off balance with the force of it.
He tried to wrest the makeshift weapon away from me, but I held on tight, twisting until I had it free of him, then circling to swing again.
I landed three more punishing blows before he started to move away, trying to run.
I went after him. I needed him to hurt bad enough to remember the pain, and remember why he wanted to avoid going near her again. Pain had a short-term memory, so I needed to make an impression that would last.
I needed to break some things. Specifically, some of his bones.
I whacked him in the back of the head, and when he was down, I crunched his knee, catching the front of it with the board.
He turned into an enraged bear after that, coming at me again, nearly knocking me out with the first hit.
Fuck. I blinked several times, fighting to stay conscious.
I kicked out at his hurt leg, making him scream, and went at him again with the plank.
I knocked him down with a heavy blow to the head, and he lay still for just long enough to make me think he was out.
I stood over him, honestly contemplating taking his life. He could never hurt her again, if he were dead. It was more than a little tempting.
The moment passed as Bianca called out my name.
I ran to her.
She was sitting up; those tragic eyes of hers wide as they sized me up.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
If I weren't so out of breath, I'd have laughed. "That's what I should be asking you. Are you okay?"
She nodded, looking far from it. She looked rattled and terrified. Face ashen, tone shaky. I'd kill him.
"We can't stay here anymore," she told me. "We need to disappear again."
I helped her stand, pulling her into my chest. "Why?"
"That's how he found me. A caseworker told him. Gave him the location. We can't trust anyone."
I took a few deep, steadying breaths. "Okay. We'll figure it out. We'll be okay. We just need to go back to the house, grab a few things, but we can be off the radar by morning."
As I spoke, I turned and glanced back at where I'd left him, out cold on the ground.
He was gone.