The icy calm that typically resided in her eyes had vanished, replaced by an anger impossible to ignore. The pressure of her grip only grew stronger.
This was the third time I'd seen her lose control.
The first was when I watched my parents die in a car accident, consumed by flames before my eyes.
I had run toward them in blind panic, and Rory had yanked me back with all her strength, shouting frantically, "Cyrus, calm down! If you run forward now, it's a death trap. If anything happens to you, what am I supposed to do?"
She had held me tight, terrified I'd throw myself into the fire.
Over and over, she whispered in my ear, "Cyrus, we will have a new home. You, me… and our baby."
The second time was when I destroyed Jesse, the one who had dared to provoke me.
She had cradled his bleeding body in her arms, shouting at me with raw, wild fury, "Cyrus, you're a damn lunatic! If anything happens to Jesse, I will never forgive you!"
And the third time… was today.
Only the second time she had lost control over another man.
Clear as day, she truly loved him.
"Cyrus! Don't you dare play dumb! Tell your people to put him down!"
Her eyes were bloodshot, and beneath her rage was pure, explosive fury.
Her grip crushed my breath, yet I felt no fear.
Far from it, actually.
I just laughed maniacally.
"You haven't made your choice yet," I said through clenched teeth. "How could I possibly let him go?"
She faltered, fingers trembling slightly around my neck.
Rory knew I meant it.
Jesse's life rested entirely on her decision.
"You're insane… a complete lunatic!" she shouted.
Her words hung in the air, but she could not decide.
Slowly, she released her grip, swinging the car door open, intent on running to save him.
And that's when I noticed her left hand, the one missing its pinky.
A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my throat.
"Rory…" I murmured.
"What are you trying to—" she shouted back.
But before she could finish, a heart-wrenching, guttural sob tore from her throat. Her face contorted in agony, and I couldn't stop a small, cruel laugh from slipping past my lips.
My hands, though, moved deliberately.
The knife I'd inserted into her uterus stayed steady in my grip.
"Rory," I said coldly, "you took away my right to be a father. How can you expect to have your own child?"
Ever since the day I'd severed her pinky, I had intended to do this.
Only she had anticipated me and dodged it.