Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

I watch from the doorway, my invisible being vibrating with pent-up fury. I want to reveal myself, drag this fucking asshole off her, and kill him with my bare fists. But Silas is right behind me, the aura of his fury even darker than mine, even more lethal. And he tells me to wait. Because while we can save Harlow—and will—she should also know she can save herself. Rewrite her story so it doesn’t define her anymore.

His words, not mine.

Harlow knees the fucker in the groin, and I do a silent cheer, but it’s not enough to shake him. He’s rabid, practically foaming at the mouth, and she fights like a feral cat, all nails, teeth, and sharp elbows. He has difficulty holding her, she’s so wild, and that makes him frustrated and stupid.

Stupid enough to abandon his goal and just try to beat her.

As he raises his arm to swing his fist at her head, I rush forward, because fuck Silas and his psycho shit. I won’t just stand and watch as this motherfucker gives my girl a concussion.

I grab his raised fist, letting my invisible fingers coalesce around it, and yank him back hard until he loses his footing. The fucker squawks in surprise and falls hard on his back, and Harlow’s on him in seconds, furious and agile like a wildcat. She straddles his hips and hits his face with her left fist. When he groans and tries to get up, she squeezes her prosthetic fingers into a tight fist and hammers it into his nose with a feral scream.

Bone crunches, blood squirts, and her rapist howls in agony, cradling his broken nose.

Hell yeah.

But she’s not done, not by a long shot. Harlow huffs, carelessly brushing hair off her face, and swings her right arm back again. And hits him again with so much force, there is more crunching, and the fucker thrashes under her, covering his face with both hands as he screams from pain.

“Had… fucking enough?” Harlow asks in a breathless, angry voice, and raises her fist again to crack it down over his hands. “Come on, baby, we’re just having fun!” She hits him again, breathing hard, her entire body shaking. “You like it, don’t you? A slut like you! You fucking like it! Don’t pretend you don’t! You fucking like it!”

She shrieks in terrible rage and pummels him with her fists, her hits not as hard now, but still taxing. The fucker doesn’t fight her anymore, just covers his head with both arms, trying to protect himself from her wrath.

“I couldn’t even get justice for what you did!” Harlow screams, fists hitting blindly over his forearms. “Because your father’s the police! You… you fucking cunt! I’ll fucking kill you! This is my justice. So take it!”

I don’t move, just stand there and watch her with awe and so much adoration, my heart threatens to burst. She’s magnificent. Taking it all out on the fucker, owning him after he hurt her like that… It just feels so right. I want him to live forever, gagged and tied up, so I can see Harlow slam into him over and over again.

She stops, breathing shakily, her hair in disarray. Her arms shake as she raises them, and I notice with a jolt how bloody the knuckles of her left hand are. Fuck. I hope she didn’t break any bones. I know I did once after I beat someone up too badly.

“Come on, princess,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady, because I know everything about the place she’s in right now. It’s feral, wild, and full of anger. She’s likely to lash out. I know, because I’ve been there so many times. “Let’s get up, okay? He’s not going anywhere. Silas will get him for you, all right? That’s my girl.”

She lets me haul her up and then buries her face into my chest, shaking harder and harder until she’s sobbing. I put my arms around her, making meaningless, shushing noises, and Harlow cries in big, heaving sobs, her entire body shuddering with them.

I watch from the corner of my eye as Silas picks up the fuckface and grips him firmly, leading him out of the room so he can join his friends.

In the fucking basement, where no one will hear them.

I stroke Harlow’s back, pressing her close, and her tears flow down my chest and stomach, sinking into the band of my jeans. I shush and hold her, looking nervously out through the window. I’m not sure, but I think the faintest line of light already spreads over the horizon.

Whether my eyes play tricks on me or it’s really there, it doesn’t matter. We’re running out of time.

“Come on, baby,” I say, gently disentangling her from me so I can step back. “Can I see your hand? Does it hurt?”

She numbly raises her left hand up. Her knuckles are bloody, the skin broken, but they don’t look swollen. I gently touch her fingers and palm, checking it over, until I’m certain nothing’s broken.

“And your other hand?” I ask, cradling her bloody palm in my fingers. “Still whole?”

She makes a sound like a wet laugh and slowly raises her prosthetic to check it. It looks fine, and when she clenches and unclenches the black fingers, everything works perfectly. I release a relieved breath, only to remember it doesn’t matter.

She still has to die. Nothing changed.

But at least Silas gave her this vengeance. When he heard the voices outside and realized who came for Harlow, he vanished, getting me and Caden to help out. We watched everything as it unfolded, invisible and silent, and when they went after Harlow, we quickly got the two less important ones and locked them in the basement. They are tied up and Caden watches them.

Now, Michael will be there, too. And Harlow can do to him whatever she wants. To them all.

“I… I got a bit crazy,” she says with an uneasy laugh, stepping from foot to foot.

“Princess,” I say, bringing her closer until she relaxes into my hug. “You were magnificent. Gave him exactly what he deserved. How did it feel?”

She laughs, this time with more confidence, though she still shakes slightly. “Amazing,” she admits in a quiet voice. “I wish… I wish I didn’t go so mad. There is so much stuff I could still do to him, but… I only hit him. Over and over.”

“Well, do you want to do more?” I ask, a sick thrill running up my spine. Honestly, Harlow punishing the guy who hurt her was the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen. I want to see her do it again. It’s pretty fucking hot.

“Can I?” she asks in a small voice.

“Hell yeah, baby,” I say, already grinning. “But we don’t have much time. One hour tops, okay?”

She steps back, flashing me a shaky smile, and bends to pick up the heavy frying pan. I grin, seeing her wield this heavy, bone-crushing weapon. It will do perfectly. Harlow sets her shoulders back, a determined look pinching her features. “One hour is enough.”

“Then come. Let’s get your revenge.”