Page 123 of Striking Range

I know with everything in me that if no one intervenes, he will hurt my father. He will rip the man to shreds. For the first time in my entire life, I am not afraid of Ash, but scared for him.

The muscles of Skylar’s back are pulled taut, his biceps flexing as he barrels forward. His curls bounce around, a sharp, lovely contrast to the tight draw of his lips and the knit of his brow. His fists are poised to inflict maximum damage.

And I know I shouldn’t, but I find him so incredibly beautiful at this moment. My precious viper is set out to destroy, to protect what is his: me.

He’s scaring me—in some ways, this version of him that I am seeing fully for the first time is startling me to my very core. Yet, at the same time, I am entranced by him.

Skylar is singing his siren song, drawing in those around him like moths to a bright, brilliant flame, and I am no exception. Momentarily, I find Ash to be lucky—he is in the striking range of a violent, beautiful creature, and doesn’t even know it.

I find myself thinking of how wonderful it is that I am allowed to be in this exact same position every single day, with Skylar wrapped so tightly around my throat and his teeth embedded into my flesh, and still he does not take the air from my lungs. He knows very well that he could, and yet he does not inject that poison into my veins.

The moment Skylar’s fist connects with Ash’s jaw, a loud crack sounds throughout the room. My adoptive father stumbles back a step, gripping his face as red trails from between his fingers.

A second later, Skylar’s fist lands again, a guttural sound leaving his throat as the sheer joy of releasing this anger overcomes him. I can feel it, all the way from here, the relief that is flooding his system.

“Ash!” Felicita screams from somewhere in the distance.

I pay her no attention. In my mind, a chorus of “Skylar, Skylar, my puppy, my vicious snake,” is looping.

I can see him, in all his bloody glory, and I love him even more for it.

Skylar is not evil—not in the way he believes himself to be. No, Skylar is the kind of man whose love is so thick and concentrated that when deemed appropriate, he is capable of tearing down buildings for those he cares for.

His anger is a sweet tonic, readily available to him—but it’s not really anger at all, is it? It’s devotion. Skylar is destroying my father, all because he loves me.

He loves me so fucking much, and I can see it in the blood on his hands.

The blood on his hands.

Oh, hell. I have to stop him.

“Skylar,” I call out, taking a clumsy step toward them.

He does not hear me. The third punch lands against Ash’s stomach, and he crumbles to the ground. He’s bleeding, glaring up defiantly as Skylar straddles him, preparing for the next blow.

“Skylar, stop!” I shout, and he freezes.

Every muscle in his body tenses, his back straightening as he sits rigid.

“Oh, god. Call the police! Somebody help!” Felicita is screaming.

Slowly, Skylar turns his face toward me. Blood or sweat coats the tips of his hair, making it slightly darker than the rest of the strands. His eyes are wide and panicked, as if he’s just awoken from a long, pleasant dream and is startled to be back in this reality.

His fingers tremble as he whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Come here, pup,” I coax him. “Just come here.”

He gently climbs off of Ash’s body, leaving him to curl up on the ground. Skylar wobbles towards me, stopping short just a foot away.

Tears flood his eyes as he says, “I’m sorry I couldn’t change. I’m sorry that it still lives inside of me. I wish I could… I wish I could be somebody else for you.”

I wonder if at any point in the past few weeks he has felt this kind of pity for me. I wonder if he’s ever looked at me and thought, “I wish I could take this pain from you. I wish you could see how brightly you shine in my eyes. I wish you could understand that you, exactly as you are, make this entire existence so much easier to stomach.”

I wonder if he feels this sorrow for me, the way I feel it for him.

“I love you,” I say in lieu of asking. I can ponder this another time. “Even right now, I still love you so much.”

Ash stirs from his spot on the floor before Skylar can respond, and though he just beat the living daylights out of him, I still shove Skylar behind me.