Leaning my ear against the door as I slowly and silently push the card into the slot gives me a clue that he’s going to be at least away from the door.  The deep vibrations of his voice are muffled enough that I guess he’s a good ten feet from the doorway.

Thank fuck the lock is almost silent when I slowly pull the handle down and push the door open.  Entering the small hallway, I see one of her legs hanging off the bed at an odd angle.  Her arm is lying next to her body, unmoving.  When I see the amount of blood and bile around the floor in front of the bed, I flip the switch and let the monsters take control.

When I set them free, I throw years of pain, hurt, and suffering into my actions.  I channel every second I’ve every felt unworthy of anything to save my angel.

Taking him by surprise is a huge advantage.  He’s balancing on his hand, with the other stroking his pathetic dick as he sucks on my angel’s exposed and bruised breast.  Her panties are still on—even if they’re hanging by a ripped thread—and I feel instant relief that I might have gotten here quickly enough to make sure this doesn’t get any worse.

“You. Motherfucker,” I grind out, my saliva frothing at the corners of my lips when I take a good look at Emmy.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

He has the nerve to laugh, standing from the bed with his dick still bobbing in front of him.  He charges, but his movements aren’t coordinated and he stumbles the second his pants get around his knees.  That gives me the opening I need.

Grabbing his head between my palms, I slam his head down on my knee.  He cries out, falling to the floor before jumping back up.  He gets a swift uppercut to the temple, making him falter on his feet before shaking it off.  Each punch he throws in my direction I dodge and then return with two of mine.  I pound into him with a lethal brutality—but he never drops.  Each punch to his face earns me more of a twisted grin.  Each jab to his center has him laughing.

“You get off on putting your hands on helpless women?  Touching my goddamn woman?  Sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?” I pant, slamming my fist into his body again.

He gets a few good licks after that, my mind torn between finishing him and getting to Emmy.  Each second I don’t see her move from the corner of my eye is too long.

“She fucking liked it,” he goads.

Judging by the look on his face and the fact that his exposed dick is still bobbing around, he is getting off on this fight.

Reaching forward, I grip his dick in my hand and pull hard with a vicious twist—giving it every ounce of strength I have in me.  I hear a satisfying pop followed quickly by his howl of agony before he drops to the floor and vomits profusely.

“This is for Emmy, you sick fuck,” I howl, bringing my leg back and kicking him with all my strength in the jaw.

His eyes roll back and he’s out cold.  Hell, he could be dead for all I know.

I get to Emmy’s side and take inventory of her injuries.  Her throat has two very angry handprints that are already bruising.  Careful not to harm her further, I check her pulse—slow but steady.  Her face, chest, and arms have various cuts and bruising.  There’s a gash on her temple that is bleeding, but it looks to be slowing.

Not wanting to move from her, I wrap the sheet she’s lying on around her body and carefully scoop her into my arms.  My leg protests against the added weight, but I push through the pain.

There isn’t anything that can stop me from saving my angel.

By the time I reach the lobby, the lights of the police cars are starting to bounce off the window.  Running in with guns drawn and shouts to freeze is the only thing that keeps me from powering through them.

“Set the woman down and step away,” one of them demands.

I shake my head and drop to my knees.

“Put her on the floor, sir, and step away now.”

I still don’t put her down.  I can’t.  How can they expect me to just drop her on this cold, unforgiving floor?

“I’m not going to tell you again.”

I can hear the promise in his tone, but fuck me.  They’re going to have to have to drag me away.

“Officer!  That’s not the one.  He’s the one who told me to call you!”  The clerk from earlier yells.

I don’t take my eyes off the officer I assume is in control.  Not blinking or giving, but showing him that I’m not the one he needs to be worried about.  Emmy is.

“She needs a medic badly.  She has deep neck lacerations, a possible concussion, and two visibly broken limbs.  Pulse was weak but holding steady approximately two minutes ago.”