Page 78 of Primal

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks.

“Our second rule,” I assert. “Never count a man out.Three.”

As soon as the word leaves my lips, Fiora reels her head back and slams it into Marco’s chin. I charge forward at the same time, gravel crunching under my boots. Marco hisses and holds onto his chin, pushing Fiora away from him so hard she stumbles forward onto her knees. He swings around the gun, but I’m already there. I grab his wrist before he can point it at her and send my fist straight into his nose.

Marco folds back only slightly, recovering quickly enough to shoulder check me in the middle of my chest. I stumble back but cling to his wrist, twisting to make him drop the gun. My gun sits heavy on my back, but I don’t have time to grab it. Marco wraps an arm around my neck and drags me forward, kneeing at my front as best he can. He barely hits my arm, but it’s enough to make me loosen my grip on his wrist.

There’s a feminine cry from somewhere behind me. Shit. Is Fiora okay? Is she hurt? I must protect her. I won’t let this bastard take her from me.

Marco flexes the wrist in my grip and struggles against my hold, slightly lifting the gun.

“Braken!”

Another gunshot rings out in the quiet night.

Chapter 40

Fiora

The air smells like iron and sulfur.

A long moment passes, then another, and another. It’s as if the world freezes before me. Did Marco’s bullet hit Braken? Is he okay? Maybe Marco shot himself. That would be the best-case scenario.

But Braken grunts, and my heart plunges into my stomach.

Shit, where did he get hit? He’s still rolling around but when he stops and shields his face from one of Marco’s blows, he’s sporting a pinched and pained scowl.

It can’t be. I must do something. Anything. But why can’t I move? My legs are shaking and too weak to stand. Mostly because I’m sitting dangerously close to the dead man from where Marco pushed me.

God. I can’t even look at him. Vomit threatens my stomach and throat. I push away from him, trying to ignore his mangled hair and lifeless body. I can still see the way his head ricocheted with Marco’s shot. Feel his warm blood and brains covering my face. Hear the ringing of the gun when Marco pulled the trigger. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

No, itcan’tend like this.

Braken risked his life to charge Marco. He could have been just like this man. Could have been flung off the top of the rooftop. Could have gone out protecting me. And honestly, he still can. I don’t know how badly he’s injured, but it means I must act quickly.

Braken headbutts Marco, and when Marco jerks back, he grabs Marco’s wrist and twists. Marco’s gun clatters to the ground uselessly, but when Braken tries to grab it, Marco slams Braken’s back into the rocky rooftop and gets in a clean punch. Braken barely even reacts. He kicks Marco off, forcing a knee into his side so he can get on top.

The gun. A wave of strength washes over me, and I scramble to where it dropped. If I can shoot Marco, I can end this whole thing now. But can I get a shot off without hurting Braken even more? I’m no stranger to guns, but it’s not like I’m some trained sniper. I’m just a rich man’s daughter. I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck up and take Braken’s life.

I stand, the gun warm between my clammy hands. I can’t tell where Braken ends and Marco begins. It’s a flurry of movement. Hands, feet, clothes, hair. It’s a struggle for control, and I’m not sure who’s winning. There’s no good opening for a shot. They roll around like two schoolboys fighting on the playground, but this isn’t some simple spat. This is a fight to the death, and I won’t let Braken be taken from me.

If I can’t shoot at the men, I’ll shoot the air.

I fire the warning shot high, hoping it startles Marco enough for Braken to get his bearings. Well, I thought it was a good idea anyway. But Marco doesn’t even flinch. It’s like he doesn’t even realize I’m there. Fury radiates from his red, sweaty face. If I thought he looked unhinged before, that’s nothing to the twisted, murderous look on his mug now.

More blood coats the ground. Is it Braken’s? Marco’s? Mine? I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. I lift the gun again,but this time point it to the space above Marco’s head. The shot splits the air, the bullet burying itself in the concrete.

It’s enough to break Marco’s concentration. When he blinks and looks at me, even for that instant, Braken pounces.

He pushes Marco down, straddling his waist and attacking. Punch after punch after punch. Braken deals blow after blow to Marco’s face, the dull sound of leather on flesh nearly buried by Marco’s gurgled and blood-filled grunts. Even when Marco stops moving, Braken doesn’t let up. He keeps punching like a man driven mad by bloodlust.

I must stop him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to save his life.

“Braken.” My voice is broken, hoarse, more like a frog than a human.

Braken keeps hitting and hitting, Marco’s blood splattering all over his black button-up.

“Braken!” I try again. Still, he doesn’t listen to me.