“She has everything to do with this.” Joe’s eyes are bright. Too bright. He’s lost his shit. “This little bitch put me in jail.”

“I put you in jail.”

“You tried.”

“No, I did. I went to the prosecutor and told her all kinds of shit about you. I told her everything. I told her you’re a killer.”

“So what if I am?”

“She laughed. She thought you were such a goddamn coward.”

This, of all things, gets to him. The thought of a woman laughing at him behind his back. Joe’s face clouds over with fury.

Now, I think. Now, now, now.

Jane elbows him in the gut. Hard. Joe grunts and steps back, but he’s still got a gun. He still has a gun, and he’s close enough to Jane to shoot and kill.

What’s the point of being alive if you’re not going to stop a bullet for the woman you love? There’s no point. I rush toward Joe like he doesn’t have a gun.

He shoots.

I hear it.

I feel the bullet enter. It’s an intense pressure, a lethal pressure, but I don’t slow down. I don’t react at all.

I don’t care about the bullet. I’m going to kill this motherfucker.

Joe’s eyes widen, then widen again. They’re the size of dinner plates when I tackle him. He expected the bullet to stop me, and it didn’t. Nothing will ever stop me from protecting Jane.

I take him down to the ground and pin him by the throat. The asshole can’t even keep his gun in his hand. I rip it away from his fingers and toss it into the bushes. There. Now my hand’s free to punch him.

One hit, square across the face. He can’t get up with my hand on his neck like this. He can hardly breathe. This piece of shit. I hit him again. My shirt’s getting hot. Wet. Another blow to the face. Joe’s nose is bleeding. I want to break every bone in his body. I lose count of the punches. I lose track of the pain. All those years of suffering. All those nights that Paige cried herself to sleep or screamed until she lost her voice. Jane, with his arm around her neck. I’ll hit him until my hand gives out. Until my life’s over. Again and again and again.

“Beau.” Two hands wrap around the fist I’m using to end Joe’s life. “Beau. Please. Stop.”

“No.”

“He’s out,” Jane says. She’s so close. Her eyes shine with tears. There’s a mark on her neck from where he held her. “He’s out. Beau. Look.”

I look down at Joe.

Oh—that’s what she meant.