Cast in shadow along with everyone else in the auditorium, I watched my target glide across the stage on the tips of her toes, a focused but poised expression on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her soft features far sterner than they needed to be. It was her solo, and while the other dancers paused, she continued to move across the floor, jumping into the air, spinning, and landing on a single foot without making a sound on her landing—because she probably only weighed a hundred pounds.
Catalina was easy to spot.
Every guy was dressed in sport coats and suits, but I walked in there in jeans and a shirt.
Because I didn’t give a fuck.
That was how you knew not to mess with someone, when they completely disregarded societal norms. They didn’t care about anyone else, and if you fucked with them, they wouldn’t care about fucking up your life either.
Catalina was such a beautiful and talented dancer. I almost felt bad for what was about to happen to her.
Almost.
The curtains closed with a round of applause, and when Catalina took her curtsy, red roses were tossed on the stage, making it perfectly clear she had numerous admirers.
Everyone filed out of the auditorium and headed to the bar so they could discuss their opinions about the ballet, even though no one really gave a damn about opinions like that.
I left from the main entrance but waited in the back. Dancers and crew members entered and exited from a different area, a door that opened from the inside but not the outside. Anyone coming backstage had to knock and hope someone answered.
I leaned against the wall and waited.
One by one, dancers and crew left. Most girls left in a group of at least two, walking to their cars together to stay safe.
I was in shadow again so I was practically invisible, and I was also lucky that my target had an inflated ego. She knew a few self-defense moves and assumed she was invincible, that the rules didn’t apply to her like everyone else.
She was about to find out how wrong she was.
Almost two hours after the curtains closed, she walked out.
Her hair was free from the bun, so long that it seemed impossible that it had all been stuffed inside that small bun just a few hours ago. She was in a yellow dress and heels, which was perplexing because I thought ballet dancers had painful feet, especially right after a performance. Why would any dancer put on five-inch heels after dancing for two hours? Her shoes tapped with a regular cadence as she walked down the sidewalk to her car parked somewhere at the curb.
My eyes moved down her silhouette, sizing her up. She was a very petite woman, so thin she couldn’t be more than 110 pounds despite her above-average height. She had lean muscles in her arms and legs, a figure that was both athletic and strong. Maybe she was tougher than most girls, but she was still nothing compared to me.
Someone four times her size was still nothing compared to me.
I followed behind her with my hands in my pockets because this was a casual grab. I would cup my hand over her mouth and silence her screams before I choked her out and made her body go limp. Then I’d throw her over my shoulder and take her home like a deer carcass I’d shot in the woods.
Easy.
I came closer to her, my footsteps slightly audible if she was paying attention, but her heels were so loud, I doubt she noticed. A green purse hung off her shoulder, and she looked down and riffled through it to find her keys, the number one thing women should not do.
Ignore her surroundings.
Liam described this woman as having some kind of intelligence, but I didn’t see any sign of it anywhere. All I saw was a dumb girl in a sundress and heels, completely oblivious to the enormous man behind her who could do some seriously terrible things.
Dumbass.
She stopped walking altogether because finding her keys in that big-ass purse was quite a task that required minutes rather than seconds. It was probably stuffed with lipstick, hair ties, old receipts from cafés, and a bunch of other bullshit that turned her purse into a trash can.
And now it would cost her life.
I moved behind her and started to make my move.
With lightning speed, she turned around and swung her purse like a weapon. She smacked it hard against my face, hitting me with her heavy pile of trash that struck my cheek so hard I actually felt it sting.
Bitch.
But that wasn’t all. She pulled her purse back and revealed a decent-sized knife in her grasp.
That was what she was looking for—not her damn car keys.
She held it with confidence, the blade pointed down so she couldn’t accidentally stab herself. It was a move someone had taught her, not something she’d picked up on her own, unless she watched a lot of YouTube videos. Carved into her serious features was the look of a madwoman. Her eyes were full of menace, and she actually showed her teeth like a threatened dog. She didn’t warn me to run away or threaten to call the cops.
Instead, she tried to kill me.
She stabbed me in the arm, not waiting for me to get my footing after being hit in the face with a goddamn purse. She dug the blade right into my arm like a maniac. “Don’t fuck with me, asshole.” The blade sank deep into my flesh before it was ripped out again, and then she slammed her heel into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.
Jesus Christ.
I fell back, my face on fire, choking for air, and my arm bleeding all over the fucking place.
But that wasn’t enough for her. When my guard was down because I’d just gotten my ass handed to me, she came at me again.
Should’ve taken Liam seriously, apparently.
Now, I stopped paying attention to her bright dress and her long, done-up hair. I looked at her as a man and finally treated her like one. When she jumped on me, the blade was aimed right at my stomach.
This bitch was actually going to try to kill me.
I threw up my arm and braced her so her hand couldn’t drive the knife inside me a second time. I threw her off of me, making her hit the pavement with a loud thud.
That didn’t slow her down—at all.
It was enough time for me to get to my feet and look her in the eye with my hands up and ready for a fight.
She was just as ready, that knife so steady she could be a surgeon. “Come on, fuckboy.”
What the fuck did she just call me?
“You better run, or I’ll skin your ass alive.” She spun the knife around her wrist, trying to show off her handling skills. “You’re lucky I’m in heels because I can’t run as fast as you. I suggest you take advantage of that.”
I could say I’d assaulted a lot of people, but never had it gone like this. Even if people didn’t know who I was, they were so scared of my size, they shit their pants, and they were never brave enough to talk shit like this. And she was a woman, to top it off.
She made a fake lunge, trying to scare me off with that big, bloody knife. “Who the fuck do you think I am?” She started to shout, probably in the hope someone would hear the commotion and come to her rescue.
I quickly jumped back, not wanting another wound that might actually make me bleed to death. One cut in my arm wouldn’t slow me down. I had at least twenty minutes before it became a problem. But if she landed another blow, like in my stomach or my thigh, near major arteries, I’d be in trouble.
She danced in her heels like she was in flats, probably because she was a professional ballerina. She jumped to the right and swiped at me, aiming right for my stomach.
Shit, she was going for my artery. It was fucking intentional.
“I ain’t no average bitch, boy.” She struck again, trying to get that same spot.
I had the opportunity to twist her arm back and get that knife free, but I was so bewildered by what she’d just said. “What?”
“I’m gonna bounce on a dick, boy.” She tried to stab me again.
I took a couple steps back. “Are you paraphrasing Beyoncé right now?”
“Hell yes, motherfucker. And I suggest you run before I kick your ass just like she would.” Her green eyes were fearless, like a hunter in ancient times that couldn’t afford to be afraid. She had to kill the animal to feed her family and survive, to win the battle to preserve her tribe. Nostrils flared and lips pressed tight together, she was savage, ice-fucking-cold. She spun the knife again around her wrist then made a move. This time, she went for my neck.
Crazy-ass bitch.
I stopped focusing on all the stupid shit flying out of her mouth so I could finally disarm her. I grabbed her wrist and spun her around, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her hand down onto my thigh so she would drop the blade.
But she didn’t.
My arm wrapped around her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.
But then she started to stab me in the leg without seeing where she was aiming, just frantically trying to get me in whatever way she could.
I moved my body away and kept hold of her, and while I was distracted, she bit down on my arm as hard she could.
I ground my teeth together and screamed from the back of my throat, suppressing the noise as much as possible so people wouldn’t run over to see the commotion, but damn, that hurt more than the knife wound. “Alright, I’m sick of this shit.” I grabbed her wrist and spun it around until it was about to break it. With my other hand on the back of her neck, I bent her over like a dog. “Let go.”
“No.”
I pushed harder on her wrist, bringing the bone to the breaking point.
She didn’t whimper. “That’s all you got, fuckboy?”
I lost my temper and threw her into the nearby car, and her body flattened against the solid door. She landed with a heavy thud. Thankfully it was an old, dusty car that didn’t possess an alarm system, so an obnoxious noise didn’t ring out. She groaned when her body slammed into it, but she still didn’t drop the knife.
I pushed my chest against her back and kept her pinned in place so I could yank the knife from her hand. It still dripped with my blood. Now that the battle was over, there was blood everywhere. Drops from my cut were on the sidewalk, grass, and all over this piece-of-shit car. It was on my clothes, on her dress. It looked like a murder scene.
I slipped the knife into my pocket. “We can do this one of two ways. Easy way or hard way.”
“Hard. Always hard.” She bucked her hips against me as she tried to throw me off.
She was quite the adversary with a knife, but when it was just her body against mine, she stood no chance. It was like throwing herself against a brick wall. All she would do was hurt herself and leave me untouched. “Alright.” I wrapped my arm around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air supply so she would eventually black out. I could’ve given her a syringe full of sedative and that would’ve been a lot more pleasant for her, but I wasn’t in the mood to be polite to this psycho.
She struggled to the very end, fighting with a strength that was so fierce it was a mystery where it came from. She fought harder than most men, didn’t give up even when hope was pointless. And she lasted a lot longer than anyone ever would.
Then she finally went under.
I released my arm from her throat and supported her body. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I sighed in relief because the bullshit was finally over. We were both covered in blood, and I was irritated that the whole thing had taken fifteen minutes when it should’ve taken fifteen seconds. I threw her over my shoulder and carried her to my truck farther down the road. Thankfully, no one was out because it was so late, so I did all of it unseen. I opened the passenger door and propped her inside before I shut the door and came around to the driver’s side.
The passenger door opened, and she sprinted away. Her heels were gone because she must’ve slipped them off when I walked behind the truck to get to my side, so now her bare feet slapped against the pavement with the speed of an Olympic runner.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”