“Don’t, Jordan.”

“He’s not fighting me.” He stepped toward Harper again. “You touched her knowing she didn’t want to touch you?”

The guy nodded, not even fighting anymore. Tears were streaming down his face.

A look of such utter contempt and disgust flared over Jordan’s face, tightening his features until I barely recognized him. He could do it, what I knew a part of him wanted to do right now. He wanted it. He yearned for it. I saw the look, and the old Bren was stirring.

She felt it in the air.

She was wakening.

The firefly was there. I felt its presence. It was lingering on the sidelines, waiting to come into the frame, but no. I shook her off.

We were better.

We had been better.

I thought…

“Just hurt him, Jordan.” I was the only one pleading, and I looked over my shoulder. Both Cross and Zellman had hard expressions on their faces.

Cross met my gaze. “If it were you?”

Zellman’s eyes narrowed. “If it were Sunday?”

Jordan shook his head, stopping, closing his eyes. He let his head fall back, his hand gripping the back of his neck. “It already was Tabatha. And he’ll do it again. Another girl. Another situation. Maybe that time he’ll go farther? What do you want me to do?”

If Jordan started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. That’s what I was fighting against here.

I stepped forward, my foot moving over the dirt. “Not what you want to do.” I couldn’t believe we were back here. Risking the loss of Cross had been enough. Jordan had been with me. He’d been helping me fight to reason with Cross. Now we were here again?

I got that we went dark, but not this dark. There were lines.

There had to be lines. Boundaries.

“We cannot cross this line. Hurt him, but that’s it.”

Jordan turned on me, roaring, “HE WON’T FIGHT BACK!”

Fine. My teeth ground against each other. We’d make him fight back.

I strode forward, my fist ready, and I swung first. I got him on a downward swing, and he stumbled a few feet, shaking his head. I was a girl, but I knew how to hit.

I taunted him, “Fight, fucker. You’re not going to get away from us scar free. Fight.” I kicked out this time, taking out his knee. He crumbled, and then I swung down again. He fell to the ground and I almost spat on him, needing him to get this through his head. “GET UP! You want to touch women you know don’t want to touch you? You get off on that shit? Be a man. Fight back. Take your hits. Right? Is that what you’d say to me? A woman? A girl?” And because he wasn’t standing, I swung again.

And again.

Again.

I kept hitting until he wasn’t moving.