Resurrected & Reclaimed

The phone screen went pitch black.

The dead dial tone grated against the suffocating silence of a room slick with my own blood.

The home invaders had just fled.

And Harrison, my husband, had mercilessly cut off my dying plea for help.

His excuse was sickeningly laughable: Brielle is terrified of the thunder. She's having a panic attack and needs me right now. Are you losing your mind again? Can you just stop this pathetic little game for attention?

I lay paralyzed on the freezing hardwood.

The metallic scent of blood filled my nose as my heartbeat slowed to a crawl.

On the very day of our wedding, Brielle had been assaulted in a dark alley.

Harrison had cradled her shaking body, shoving every ounce of blame onto my shoulders.

"Fallon, this is your fault. You owe her."

From that moment on, his heart belonged entirely to her.

But now, breathing in the air of a second life, the agonizing pain had vanished, leaving behind a cold clarity that settled deep into my bones.

I decided to give him exactly what he wanted.

I would stop playing my little games.

I would walk out of his life forever.

Chapter 1

The moment I opened my eyes to my second life, Brielle was hurling a bowl of boiling, oil-slicked hotpot broth right at my face.

"Is it fun seducing a married man, you slut?" She screamed it like she was Harrison's actual wife.

It was the middle of the dinner rush. The restaurant was packed, and heads snapped in our direction.

"So she's the homewrecker."

"But that guy was just calling her his wife. I guess if you're rich and handsome, you can have as many women as you want."

"Disgusting. Homewreckers should drop dead."

Brielle's lips curled up. She shot me a triumphant, taunting smirk.

It was exactly like my past life. She thrived on throwing public, unhinged tantrums just to humiliate me. If I hadn't learned the sickening truth right before I died, I might have swallowed my pride and endured it again. After all, she had been assaulted.

She had lost her mind. Harrison and I bore the inescapable weight of that guilt.

"Fallon, are you okay?" Harrison's gentle voice drifted into my ears, sounding like it belonged to a completely different lifetime. He reached out, carefully trying to wipe the burning chili oil from my cheek.

The phantom echoes of his endless reprimands from my past life slammed into my skull. "It's because of us that Brielle ended up like this. Can't you just suck it up and deal with it?"

This time, my body moved on pure instinct. I shoved him away hard.

I grabbed the nearest bowl of scalding red broth and splashed it directly into Brielle's face.

But I wasn't done. I grabbed a fistful of her perfectly styled hair, yanked her down, and slammed her face-first onto the greasy, food-stained table.

I stood over her, staring down at her twisted, frantic expression.

"Ah!" Brielle shrieked. She hit the floor, covering her face, and started rolling around in a dramatic, exaggerated display of agony. She glared up at me, her eyes dripping with pure venom.

"Does it hurt?" A laugh ripped from my throat as I watched her squirm.

I leaned in close, letting the absolute hatred bleed into my voice. "You know what, Brielle? I've been dying to do that for a very long time."

Harrison rushed over and pulled Brielle up into his arms. His face darkened into a cold scowl as he barked at me. "Fallon! She is a sick woman! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"A sick woman?" I repeated the words, letting the bitter irony roll off my tongue. I locked eyes with Harrison, my gaze dead and unblinking.

I swung my arm back and channeled every ounce of strength in my body, slapping him mercilessly across his hypocritical face.

The sharp crack echoed through the room, instantly silencing the restaurant's chatter. The side of his cheek swelled, an angry red mark blossoming right before my eyes.

"I've been dying to do that to you, too."

The dining room erupted in gasps. A few people immediately pulled out their phones to record.

I reached into my bag and yanked out our marriage certificate, making sure my voice carried over the commotion. "Harrison, I came here today for a divorce. I'll be waiting at the courthouse at three o'clock sharp."

Harrison stared at me, completely stunned.

I didn't waste another breath on him. I squared my shoulders, turned my back, and walked straight out of the restaurant.

As the cold air hit my face, a wave of disorientation washed over me.

Harrison, Brielle, and I. We were all orphans who grew up in the same foster home. We had relied on each other to survive. That is, until Harrison was adopted by a wealthy family, and we completely lost touch.

Years later, Harrison and I crossed paths again in college, and we got together.

Brielle was studying abroad at the time. When she heard the news, she teased me over the phone. "When you guys get married, you have to make me your maid of honor."

Because of that, it never even crossed my mind that she was in love with him too.

Then came our wedding day. I had accidentally misplaced my backup ring. Brielle volunteered to run back to my apartment to grab it. On the way, she was dragged into a dark alley by a group of drunk vagrants.

When the ambulance rushed her battered, dying body to the hospital, she kept repeating Harrison's name over and over again.

For as long as she cried out for him, Harrison stood frozen in absolute, suffocating silence.

We canceled our honeymoon. We took turns sitting by her hospital bed, tending to her. But every time Brielle laid eyes on me, she would go completely ballistic. She would smash things, sob uncontrollably, and cower deep into Harrison's chest.

She played the part of a fragile, broken little bird who couldn't withstand the slightest breeze.

Chapter 2

Ultimately, Harrison rubbed his temples and sighed. "Fallon, this is our fault. We owe her."

"Right now, I'm the only person she recognizes. From now on, could you just stay away from her?"

From that day forward, the scales in his heart tipped entirely in Brielle's favor. As long as she asked, he would choose her over me, unconditionally and without hesitation. Every day after work, he always drove to Brielle's apartment first. He wouldn't come home until midnight, and sometimes, he didn't come home at all.

What could I possibly say?

I was drowning in guilt too. I couldn't say a word. I didn't have the right.

In my past life, after the incident at the hotpot restaurant, Harrison didn't visit Brielle for a long time. That fragile peace lasted until my birthday. Harrison had promised me that he wouldn't go anywhere; he would stay home and celebrate with me.

And then, Brielle called.

I didn't know what had happened, but I watched the anxiety deep in Harrison's eyes spike. He grabbed his coat and bolted for the door.

Pure instinct drove me to grab his wrist. "It's my birthday. You promised"

Harrison looked at me with profound disappointment, like he was pushed to his absolute limit. "Fallon, if you had suffered through what Brielle went through, you wouldn't be throwing a tantrum over something so trivial."

I never expected his words to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Not long after Harrison left, several men smashed through the front door of our apartment. I immediately locked myself in the bedroom and dialed 911. Just as I hung up, the men unlocked the bedroom door with a key.

How did they have the key to my bedroom?

Before my mind could process it, they pinned me to the floor and began viciously tearing at my clothes.

In the chaos, I found a split-second opening and dialed Harrison's number. I knew he was at Brielle's, and her apartment was just down the street. If he could just get here in time

But all I heard was his cold, impatient voice. "Can you just stop this pathetic little game for attention?"

"Brielle is terrified of the thunder. She's having a panic attack and needs me right now. Are you losing your mind again?"

Ah. It was just a little thunder.

A bitter, broken laugh was all I managed before the attacker violently snatched my phone and ended the call.

"Bitch." I heard a furious curse.

In my final moments, as the life drained out of me, I made a promise to myself. If I could do it all over again, I would get as far away from them as possible.

When my soul left my body, I found myself drifting into Brielle's apartment.

I watched as Brielle timidly clung to Harrison's arm, gripping him like a lifeline. "Are you leaving?"

Harrison put his phone down and gently stroked her forehead. "I'll wait until you fall asleep," he murmured.

Brielle's pupils darted. She grabbed his shirt, her knuckles turning white, and pressed her lips against his.

Harrison immediately pushed her away. "Brielle, I'm married." A faint trace of displeasure edged his voice.

Tears welled up in Brielle's eyes, mixing with a thick, undeniable resentment. "If she hadn't lost her ring, I never would have been attacked."

"Harrison, you promised you would atone for her sins. You said you'd do anything short of sleeping with me. Were those your words, or not?"

Harrison stiffened. Then, like a man surrendering, he closed his eyes and let Brielle kiss him again.

His hand moved on its own, sliding familiarly around her waist to steady her. It was a practiced motion, like a scene they had played out a thousand times before.

I watched as the resistance bled out of him. A dark, unmistakable heat clouded his eyes.

He lost control, gripping the back of her head and aggressively deepening the kiss.

A violent, suffocating wave of nausea slammed into my stomach.

I gagged, my chest heaving as the sickness threatened to claw its way up my throat.

Chapter 3

The thunder faded, but Brielle, clinging to her fragile facade, insisted she was terrified of sleeping alone. Harrison stayed.

From my spectral vantage point, I watched him dial my number over and over. When the calls went to voicemail, the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"Is Fallon mad?" Brielle asked innocently.

Harrison's face was a mask of cold stone. He didn't answer.

In the dead of night, after his breathing finally evened out, I watched Brielle slip quietly out of bed. She crept onto the balcony, pressing her phone tightly to her ear.

"Is it done?" she hissed into the receiver.

A pause. Then, all the color drained from her face.

"What? She's dead?" Her voice trembled, but not from grief. "I told you just to sleep with her!"

"Record a video for blackmail! You absolute useless trash. I can't believe I trusted you idiots again."

"I told you to fake my assault back then, and you actually It's over. Everything is ruined."

The pieces clicked together with horrifying clarity. The men who broke into my home. The assault that derailed our wedding day. It was all her.

A meticulously orchestrated, sick charade.

After my death, panic must have set in. Brielle bought a one-way ticket out of the state, desperate to escape the fallout. But before she could board, the police swarmed her at the airport.

The man who tipped them off stood nearbya tall, imposing figure. There was something undeniably familiar about his silhouette.

One thing was absolutely certain: it wasn't Harrison.

I strained to see the man's face, but the edges of my vision blurred into blackness.

When my eyes snapped open again, I was breathing in my second life.

Not long after I walked out of the hotpot restaurant, my phone buzzed. It was Harrison.

"Fallon, I am not agreeing to a divorce. Where are you right now?"

I gripped the phone, ready to fire back, when a sleek black car glided to a stop right beside the curb. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a sharp, icy profile.

The features aligned perfectly with the tall man who had turned Brielle in to the police in my past life.

"Callum?"

Callum tilted his head toward the passenger seat. "Get in."

Harrison must have heard him through the speaker. His tone instantly dropped to freezing. "Fallon, why are you with Call"

I hit the red button, cutting him off mid-sentence.

A barrage of texts flooded my screen. Harrison declaring he absolutely wouldn't show up at the courthouse today. Harrison demanding we talk this out. And finally, Harrison warning me to stay away from Callum.

A dry, cynical laugh escaped my lips.

Callum was the youngest son of the family patriarcha late-in-life child. He was notoriously cold and kept his distance from the rest of the family. Harrison was absolutely terrified of his young uncle.

For years, Callum had built his empire in the entertainment industry, showing zero interest in the family business. But this year, he suddenly stepped back from the limelight, positioning himself as a direct threat to Harrison's inheritance. It all started right around the time Harrison and I got marriedright when Harrison began abandoning me for Brielle.

I stared at the man behind the wheel, the question of why he was here dying on my tongue as his deep voice cut through the silence.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Callum's piercing gaze locked onto my face. "Doesn't it hurt?"

I froze. My fingers instinctively brushed against my cheek.

Waking up in this second life, the sheer, consuming hatred had acted like adrenaline, completely numbing the physical burn of the hot soup. But the moment Callum pointed it out, the delayed agony slammed into me.

A vicious, stinging fire spread across my cheek and down my neck.

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that." I pulled the door open and slid into the leather seat.

In this new life, my body and my safety came first. He was offering a lifeline, and I had zero intention of playing the martyr.

At the hospital, Callum didn't just drop me off; he made the doctors run a thorough check. Luckily, the broth hadn't been hot enough to cause severe, lasting damage. I was going to be fine.

Chapter 4

The doctor finished applying the soothing ointment. I cracked my eyes half-open and saw Callum standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear.

"If you're busy, you can head back to the office," I said. "Thanks for bringing me here."

In all the years I'd known the family, he rarely showed up at the main estate. We had crossed paths a grand total of zero times. Honestly, this sudden burst of charity caught me completely off guard.

"I'm fine," he replied, sliding the phone into his pocket. Then, completely out of left field, he dropped a question. "You're divorcing Harrison?"

I blinked. Clearly, he'd witnessed the chaotic spectacle at the hotpot restaurant. I gave a single, definitive nod. "I'm getting a lawyer tomorrow."

His dark eyes locked onto mine. He didn't say another word.

The heavy silence stretched, making my skin prickle with an unfamiliar heat. "I'm a little thirsty." The words slipped out before my brain registered that I was actually ordering around this notoriously ruthless, ice-cold billionaire to fetch me water.

He shot me an unreadable glance, then turned and actually walked out the door to get it.

I wandered out into the hospital corridor. Just as I turned the corner toward the main lobby, Harrison came sprinting through the sliding glass doors, frantically carrying Brielle in his arms.

"Doctor!"

Our eyes collided in the chaotic ER lobby. Harrison froze dead in his tracks.

I kept my face an absolute blank mask, pivoted on my heel, and walked away.

I went back to the private room. After a few minutes, Callum still hadn't returned. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the screen to text him, when heavy footsteps stopped at the door.

"Fallon." It was Harrison.

"You threw boiling soup in Brielle's face this afternoon. She thought she was permanently disfigured. The trauma triggered another psychotic episode."

"She ran into the kitchen and slashed her wrists with a meat cleaver. She's hemorrhaging right now, and the hospital blood bank is short."

"You're her family, and you have an obligation to donate blood to her. I already used my legal authority as your husband to sign the mandatory consent forms on your behalf. Come with me right now."

I stared at the raw, frantic desperation swimming in Harrison's eyes. My voice came out dead smooth.

"Her life or death is none of my damn business. Are you blind? I'm injured too."

"Are you still throwing a tantrum?" Harrison closed the distance in two massive strides. His fingers clamped down like a steel vise around my wrist. "You're coming with me to give blood."

The skin on my wrist was raw, right over a burn I had just gotten treated. The violent yank sent a white-hot spike of agony shooting up my arm.

I hissed, sucking in a sharp breath.

He didn't even flinch.

"Harrison." I ripped my arm back. "You have zero right to force my body to do anything I don't want to do."

The veins in Harrison's neck popped. "Fallon, do you really want me to spell it out for you? If you hadn't been careless enough to lose your ring, Brielle never would have been assaulted!"

"I wouldn't be stuck cleaning up this mess! If you hadn't acted like a total psycho this afternoon, Brielle wouldn't have slashed her wrists! People need to pay for their mistakes."

Harrison glared down at me, his eyes devoid of anything resembling warmth.

So that was it. In his twisted reality, I was the villain who had ruined everything.

I shoved down the rising wave of disgust and let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Harrison, stop wrapping up your cheating in this pathetic savior complex. Did you get amnesia? Brielle threw the soup at me first."

"She's the psycho, not me. Brielle is terrified of a little scar, but if my face melts off, I guess I just deserve it?"

"Not to mention, I have a heart condition. Draining my blood could literally kill me. But I guess you're too busy playing the devoted hero to remember a minor detail like your wife's medical history."

"Your heart is already in her bed. What's the point of lying to yourself?"

Harrison froze. All the color drained from his face. His mouth opened to fire back, but the words died in his throat.

"Harrison," I stepped closer, dropping my voice to a lethal whisper. "If I told you that Brielle's little tragedy in the alley was entirely orchestrated by her would you believe me? Think about it. Why do you think she fought so damn hard against calling the cops?"

Chapter 5

"Enough." Harrison sliced his hand through the air, cutting me off. "Fallon, you don't need to spin some psychotic conspiracy theory just to dodge accountability."

"Believe whatever the hell you want."

I ripped my arm out of his grip. I pulled out my phone, punched in 911, and reported an attempted forced medical procedure. I ignored the absolute fury darkening his face.

I calmly fed the dispatcher the hospital's address. Then, I hung up and looked up at the man I had loved for so many years.

"Harrison, I am dead serious about this divorce. If you don't sign, I will drag you through court."

A nurse sprinted over to inform Harrison they had located backup blood bags. Before he walked away, he dropped one last line.

"Fallon, I was wrong today. But I swear, I only look at Brielle as a little sister. You are the only woman I have ever loved."

Translation: He wasn't going to sign those divorce papers, no matter what.

Callum walked back into the room right after Harrison left.

"The dispenser was out of hot water, so I went down to the cafeteria and grabbed some soup and oatmeal."

He was actually explaining why he took so long. Obviously, I didn't mind. He must have noticed the tension knotting my shoulders, because he checked his watch and said he needed to head back to the office.

The second the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a massive breath.

Then, my phone buzzed. Callum had sent me a digital business card.

[A shark of a divorce attorney. Pretty good track record. Never lost a case.]

[Me: ???]

Still, I tapped out a polite reply:

[Thank you, Uncle Callum.]

The chat stayed silent for a long minute before a new bubble popped up.

[If you're divorcing him, you don't need to call me Uncle anymore.]

I spent the next few days recovering in the hospital while prepping the divorce filing.

Harrison showed up multiple times. He kept his voice low and pleading, promising he would send Brielle to a facility out of state and cut all contact with her.

I kept my face totally blank and had hospital security throw him out.

One night, my screen lit up with a text from Brielle.

[Do you think you won? Let me tell you a little secret. He got drunk last night, and we slept together. Who knows? I might already be carrying his baby.]

She unsent the messages a split second later.

I stared at the blank screen for a few seconds, then typed:

[Remember to use protection next time. It would be a real tragedy to bring a kid into this world with the same brain damage as you.]

On the day I was discharged, Harrison ambushed me again. He claimed he was finally ready to negotiate the divorce, but he had one conditionI had to attend his mother's birthday gala.

"Mom has always adored you. Her health has been failing lately, and she really wants to see you. Once the party is over, we'll talk."

I agreed.

The gala was a massive, opulent affair. Every extended branch of the family tree was there.

"Fallon is looking more stunning than ever. I wish my son could lock down a wife half as perfect."

Listening to the endless stream of compliments from his relatives, it became glaringly obvious that Harrison hadn't breathed a word about our impending divorce to his family.

"Wait, is that Callum?! He never shows up to these things. What is he doing here?"

"Right? He and Harrison have always been at each other's throats. I bet he's just here to piss him off."

"How else is he going to piss him off? Steal his wife? Hahaha."

I took a sip of my champagne and immediately spotted Callum. He was completely surrounded by a fawning crowd. Tall and imposing, he stood out effortlessly in the sea of tailored suits.

His dark eyes swept over the room, landing on me without a single ripple of emotion.

I gave him a polite, brief nod.

He just stared at me, his expression completely unreadable, before coldly shifting his gaze away.

Chapter 6

What a weirdo. What was he so pissed off about?

"Fallon." A familiar voice sounded right next to my ear.

Harrison stood there, perfectly dressed in a sharp suit, a gentle, practiced smile playing on his handsome face. He held out his hand. "Mom is waiting for you in the main hall. Let's go."

The words had barely left his mouth when a figure suddenly slipped up beside him, smoothly hooking her arm through his. "Harrison, I've been looking everywhere for you."

It was Brielle.

A flicker of surprise crossed my face. Harrison had actually brought her to an intimate family gala. Did this mean the family was already accepting her presence?

Harrison's smile vanished. He quickly peeled Brielle's fingers off his sleeve, his eyes darting to me with obvious panic. "Fallon, don't misunderstand."

I just laughed. "Harrison, we are getting a divorce. You can bring whoever you want to a family dinner. It's a free country."

Brielle's face twisted, her smile dropping into a stiff, ugly line.

I smoothly changed my tone. "But bringing an absolute psychopath with you? You really outdid yourself."

Brielle's jaw locked. Her face turned completely rigid. She stared at me, her gaze sharp and vicious.

Then, her eyes flicked down to the crystal wine glass in my hand. A bizarre, twisted smirk slowly stretched across her lips.

"Have fun today, Fallon."

My gut screamed that something was very wrong. After exchanging forced pleasantries with Harrison's mother, I immediately started planning my exit. Harrison clearly had zero intention of discussing the divorce today. He just wanted to trick me into showing up to play the good wife.

On my way to the restroom, an unnatural, burning heat flared in my veins. The realization hit me like a freight trainI knew exactly what Brielle had done to my drink.

I immediately bit down hard on the tip of my tongue. The sharp metallic taste of blood and the blinding pain forced my drug-addled brain to stay awake. I grabbed a heavy glass vase from the vanity counter and hid it behind my back.

The second I heard heavy footsteps approaching to cover my mouth from behind, I spun around.

I swung the vase with everything I had, smashing it directly into the first guy's skull. The thick glass shattered on impact, sending blood and shards flying across the tiles.

Then, darkness swallowed me.

When I woke up, I was dumped in a strange room. Thick duct tape sealed my lips, and rough ropes bound my wrists and ankles.

Through the ringing in my ears, muffled voices drifted through the crack of the door.

"I slipped her the drug. You guys go in there and screw her."

"Make sure you get it all on video. Remember, I'm bringing the whole party up here to catch her in the act. Leave a ton of marks on her."

I forced my heavy eyelids open. Brielle was standing by the door, whispering to a group of men. I stared at their faces. Cold dread pooled in my stomach.

They were the exact same thugs who had broken into my house and killed me in my past life!

That wasn't supposed to happen for years. Why was it happening right now? And we were inside the main family estate. Had Brielle completely lost her mind?

Brielle's heels clicked away down the hall. The men left behind started arguing loudly over something. Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Adrenaline spiked through my veins. With my wrists bound tightly together, I managed to snatch a heavy glass ashtray from a nearby table.

I hurled it straight at the heavy wooden door with everything I had.

Smash!

The loud crash made the footsteps outside pause.

"Fucking bitch."

My stunt clearly pissed the men off. They stormed toward me, spewing the same vile curses they had used in my past life. But before they could lay a single finger on me, the door was violently kicked open.

Through my blurry vision, I saw Callum's face, dark and absolutely lethal.

"Callum"

When I blinked again, the ropes were gone. The thugs had vanished. Only Callum remained in the room.

I forced my shaky legs to stand, but my knees immediately buckled. I pitched forward.

I braced for the hard impact of the floor, but instead, I crashed into a solid, radiating chest.

My fingers dug desperately into the collar of his tailored shirt to keep from sliding down. "Help me."

My eyes locked onto his throat. I watched his Adam's apple bob heavily.

"Fallon."

The drug was burning me alive, but I gritted my teeth, fighting for every ounce of sanity to get the words out. "Get me to the bathroom."

Callum stared down at me for a long, heavy second. A dark storm brewed in his eyes. Then, without a word, he grabbed me and shoved me into the master bathroom.

Chapter 7

Freezing water cascaded from the showerhead, barely enough to extinguish the unnatural, burning heat raging through my veins.

"Are you done?" Callum's deep voice resonated through the heavy bathroom door.

I cracked the door open. I told him the edge had worn off, but the heat creeping up my neck betrayed my embarrassment. A thick, awkward tension settled between us.

Callum leaned against the doorframe, his tone entirely too casual. "You showed up to the gala today. Planning on forgiving Harrison?"

I didn't even hesitate. "Hell no. We are entirely past the point of no return."

I quickly filled him in on Harrison's little blackmail scheme involving his mother's birthday.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of the drug messing with my head, but I swear I saw a faint, almost imperceptible gleam of satisfaction flash through his dark eyes.

Suddenly, a chaotic chorus of voices and the heavy thud of a dozen footsteps echoed from the hallway.

"I literally just saw Fallon drag a guy into this room You're sure? Because that would be insane."

The voices were practically right outside the door.

Pure panic hijacked my brain. Before I could process how incredibly stupid the impulse was, I shoved Callum backward into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Crash! The bedroom door was violently kicked open.

Harrison stormed in first. Right behind him was Brielle, leading what looked like the entire damn guest list from the gala.

And there I stood. My face was flushed red, my clothes were soaked and clinging to my skin, and angry red marks from my fight with the thugs mottled my wrists and neck. It was a scene straight out of a scandal sheet.

The crowd froze, their faces a mix of collective shock and absolute thrill as the whispers ignited.

"Oh my god. You cannot tell me they weren't just hooking up The perfect little wife turns out to be an absolute slut."

Some idiot in the back actually had the nerve to whistle at Harrison. "Man, that is one hell of a pair of horns she just put on you."

The veins in Harrison's neck practically bulged out of his skin. His eyes locked onto the bruises and wet clothes, taking the scene purely at face value.

His hand cracked brutally across my cheek. The sheer force of the blow sent me crashing to the hardwood floor.

Harrison looked like a rabid dog that had just had its tail stepped on. The destruction of his control and raw jealousy twisted his hypocritical face.

His voice squeezed through his gritted teeth. "Tell me. Who is the bastard that touched you?"

The simmering rage of two entire lifetimes detonated into a massive surge of adrenaline. I didn't even hesitate. I drove my knee up, burying it brutally into his unprotected stomach