I’ve never been a violent man. I’m a lover, not a fighter. The temptation to pulverize this asshole to a pathetic pile of mush is strong, though. Fury rips through me, a wildfire spreading in a drought-dry field. A lightning strike on a dead tree in a summer storm. Flames envelope my vision, and I see every shade of red imaginable. I have an urge to protect.

Defend.

Keep safe and free from harm.

“We don’t pull that kind of shit here.” My voice has settled to an eerie calm. “Emma is an outstanding attorney. She posted one of the highest bar scores in the last 50 years and is a better human being than your sorry ass will ever be. One more word out of your mouth about her, and I will not be responsible for my actions. Your face will be covered in blood when I’m done with you. I will rip you to pieces. I will destroy your entire life. Want to know the best part? I don’t give a fuck about the consequences. Losing my job would be worth it to permanently shut you the fuck up.”

I storm through the door, leaving the conference room behind. I need to get out of here before I act on my words and do something drastic. Every threat was real, and I’d yell it through a megaphone if I could. Fuck what HR has to say.

I forgo the elevator and take the stairs down, all ten flights of them, legs and muscles screaming in protest as I descend the concrete again and again, pounding away from the war zone I almost created. When I reach the bottom floor, I shove the door to the outside world open so forcefully, a woman passing on the sidewalk shrieks at the noise.

“Sorry,” I apologize, not intending to take my wrath out on anyone else. My head lifts toward the sun and I close my eyes, letting the warmth wash over my body.

“Henry?”

My eyes fly open to find Emma biting her lip, a cautious distance of space between us.

“Hey.” I rub the back of my neck, attempting to steady my breathing. “What’s up?”

Hopefully my voice comes out neutral and not dripping with malice and contempt. I’m not mad at her. Far from it. I want to reach out and hug her, shielding her from the shitheads sitting ten stories up.

“Are you okay? You stormed out of the building pretty quickly.”

“I’m fine. I needed a minute.”

The rage might be deteriorating, but pure adrenaline is still very much prevalent. I could run lap after lap with how amped up I am.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. I can leave you alone.”

“No. You can stay. Please stay.”