Dread propelled her from the vehicle. Jared stopped. “You wait in the truck.”
Lola stiffened her spine and looked him in the eye, not even bothering to speak.
Jared just sighed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath as they strode for the house.
A crash sounded from inside. Jared took off at a sprint and Lola was right behind him.
The sight that greeted stopped her short and took her breath away. The kitchen table was broken down the middle, two uneven halves on the floor. Papers littered the floor, as though a hand had swiped them off a counter or table. It smelled like sweat and blood and…fear.
Jared stood in the doorway to the living room, not moving.
There was a grunt, a sickening cracking sound.
“Jared—“
He raised a hand, not looking at her, and the words died on her lips. What was he looking at? What was on the other side of Jared? Lola didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see, but found her feet moving regardless.
It happened in slow motion, but so very quickly as well. It felt like Lola was watching a movie; a horror movie. It couldn’t be real. But it was.
Lola gasped, hand to her mouth, sick feeling.
At first she thought it was Jack on the floor; it took a minute to sink in that Jack was on top. The relief was palpable, dizzying. Jack was okay, or as okay as he could be under the circumstances.
Jack was straddling who Lola could only assume was his father’s limp form, pummeling his face. The man was large, larger than Lola could have imagined, and yet he wasn’t fighting back. Was he dead?
She grabbed Jared’s arm and squeezed. “Jared, stop him. You have to stop him!”
“He needs to do this,” was the low reply.
“He’s going to kill him.” Lola didn’t care about Jack’s father; a man he’d never even deemed important enough to name in front of Lola, but Jack wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he murdered a man, however deserving the person was of it.
“This is for Isabelle. This is for me,” Jack vehemently declared, landing another punch to a face that no longer looked like a face. The sound of flesh hitting flesh turned Lola’s stomach.
Jared moved then. He crouched beside Jack. “Jack. That’s enough.”
Jack shook him off, not even looking at him. “It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough,” he muttered.
Lola watched the man she loved, consumed with hate; saw him losing himself, and reacted. She had to save him. He’d saved her. She had to reach him somehow.
“Jack,” she whispered, kneeling beside him. She ignored the unconscious man trapped under Jack, refused to look at him.
He paused then, turned his head. Jack’s eyes blazed with vengeance, an unholy gleam; his face different shades of yellow and purple. Jack’s chest heaved up and down, up and down, as he crouched there, looking at her but not really seeing her. He looked scary, beautiful, an avenging angel.
Lola’s throat choked up. “Jack.” She reached a hand out, touched a fresh cut on his already battered face. “I love you.”
Jack’s eyes cleared and it was him again. His shoulders slumped forward as he hung his head. He got off the man and, on his knees; proud and unremorseful, he faced Lola. She was vaguely aware of Jared moving the man none too gently, of looking him over.
She reached for him, held his head against her chest. His arms slowly raised, his hands barely touching her, as though afraid she would disappear if he held her too close. Then Jack crushed her to him, something wet and warm dripping down her skin. Tears.
Jack was crying.
Lola’s lips trembled. She put her chin against his soft hair, her own grief quietly falling down her cheeks.
Jared caught her eye, motioned that he would be outside.
“I love you, Jack. I love you so much,” she whispered brokenly.
Jack didn’t respond, but his grip on her tightened; his arms fully cocooned her to him, telling her without words he would never let her go.
And I’ll never let you go.
16
“I don’t have to tell you that was stupid.”
Jack sat on the couch, watching Jared pace before him. Lola sat beside him, an arm around his waist. She was thinking the same thing, but didn’t necessarily agree that right now was the time to discuss it.
“And yet you just did.”
Lola gave Jack a slight squeeze; a warning. Jared was stopped in front of Jack, scowl in place. Jared and Jack were like two firecrackers when they arguing; one little spark and they both went off.
“Nobody likes a smartass. He can press charges against you. You’re eighteen. Then what? Then you lose Isabelle anyway.”
It was true. Lola had thought the same thing just moments ago.