A meaty fist caught the side of my head, but I just kept hitting and hitting, curses spewing from me.  He was huge, and strong, but not fast.  I was all of those things and feeling no pain at the moment, to boot.

I'd demolish him, or die trying, I swore then and there.

His next hit caught me in the temple, and I saw stars, but it didn't slow me down.  Instead, it set me off.

I took a cheap shot, punching him in the groin.

He yelped like a wounded animal.

I did it again, and again, then went for his face.  I held myself up on one arm and did as much damage to it as I could before he managed to stumble away, staggering up to his feet.

I rose to join him.  I spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, shrugged my shoulders to loosen them up, and smiled at the bastard.

He shot me an assessing look that held more than an ounce of approval in it.  The man respected a good fighter.  It was likely the only thing he respected, the piece of shit.

"That's my daughter," he told me, his voice deep and scratchy, his accent thick.  "This is family business.  You do not need to interfere."

I saw red, and with a roar, charged again.

"She's my family, you bastard!" I cursed him, shoving him up against the wall of the building.  "I'll kill you if you ever lay a hand on her again!  I'll kill you, you bastard.  I swear it!"  I was screaming by the end, spittle flying, hands going for his throat and squeezing.

He was turning blue before he managed to dislodge me.  Another blow to the head that I'd feel later.

Later.  But not now.

Now I caught his face with four knuckles with enough force to knock out some teeth.

"You her boyfriend?" he asked me, gasping it out.

"I'm her family," I shouted, moving in close to start in on his stomach.  It was my most vicious move, usually a last resort, but always effective.

I started working at him again, same spot as before, with a mind for doing some permanent damage.  I grunted with the force of the quick fire blows, just wailing on him.

He growled, grabbed my hair, and started punching the side of my head.

I had to retreat.  Too many more hits like that, and he'd knock me out.  That was not an option.

I looked around, searching for something to bludgeon him with.  I wasn't trying to fight fair.  I wanted to destroy the bastard, by any means necessary.

There was a jagged wooden plank sitting on top of a dumpster, thin enough to grab and swing.  Perfect.  I went for it, grabbing it and swinging it around just before he hit me, taking me back and slamming me into the wall.

I dropped the plank, throwing my arms up to protect my head.

I'd gone into defense mode, and I wasn't happy about it.  With a roar, I head butted him, shoving as hard as I could.

He sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, and I went for the board.

I swung with all my might, catching him hard on the shoulder as he rose, my body rocking off balance with the force of it.

He tried to wrest the makeshift weapon away from me, but I held on tight, twisting until I had it free of him, then circling to swing again.

I landed three more punishing blows before he started to move away, trying to run.

I went after him.  I needed him to hurt bad enough to remember the pain, and remember why he wanted to avoid going near her again.  Pain had a short-term memory, so I needed to make an impression that would last.

I needed to break some things.  Specifically, some of his bones.

I whacked him in the back of the head, and when he was down, I crunched his knee, catching the front of it with the board.

He turned into an enraged bear after that, coming at me again, nearly knocking me out with the first hit.

Fuck.  I blinked several times, fighting to stay conscious.

I kicked out at his hurt leg, making him scream, and went at him again with the plank.

I knocked him down with a heavy blow to the head, and he lay still for just long enough to make me think he was out.

I stood over him, honestly contemplating taking his life.  He could never hurt her again, if he were dead.  It was more than a little tempting.

The moment passed as Bianca called out my name.

I ran to her.

She was sitting up; those tragic eyes of hers wide as they sized me up.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

If I weren't so out of breath, I'd have laughed.  "That's what I should be asking you.  Are you okay?"

She nodded, looking far from it.  She looked rattled and terrified.  Face ashen, tone shaky.  I'd kill him.

"We can't stay here anymore," she told me.  "We need to disappear again."

I helped her stand, pulling her into my chest.  "Why?"

"That's how he found me.  A caseworker told him.  Gave him the location.  We can't trust anyone."

I took a few deep, steadying breaths.  "Okay.  We'll figure it out.  We'll be okay.  We just need to go back to the house, grab a few things, but we can be off the radar by morning."

As I spoke, I turned and glanced back at where I'd left him, out cold on the ground.

He was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SAME DAMAGED ROOT

PRESENT

STEPHAN

James sat at my right, giving me very serious eyes.  "I know you've been in a tough position with me, from the start.  With your need to protect her, and having no way of knowing whether or not she'd need protection from me.  That's all past now, though.  We don't ever need to make things hard for each other.  I want you to know that I won't ever try to come between you.  I know how necessary you are to each other."