Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
He got back on the line. “Alright, cuz. I’ll see you later—”
“Banks, I’m fucking serious—”
“Here’s Marcelo. He wants to talk to you.”
“But, Banks.” I leaned forward. “Banks? Banks?”
Then, Marcelo’s deep voice came on the line and he. . .didn’t sound pleased at all. “MoMo, we need to talk, and right. Fucking. Now.”
I swallowed.
Here we go.
Chapter twenty-seven
The Thing About Marcy
Moni
There were only a few times in my life when Marcy had been mad at me.
Any other time, he was usually the very picture of calm and control—a gentleman through and through.
One of those times was when I decided to walk home alone late at night from a club in the South. I’d been annoyed with my old female friends who decided they wanted to head off to some guys’ apartment and they had the nerve to not even want to drop me off.
Keep in mind that the club was barely five blocks away.
Anyway, I hurried to my aunt’s house with mace in one hand and my phone in the other.
Marcy had scolded me gently but firmly, reminding me of the dangers I could have faced in the South.
Even more, he was pissed I didn’t call him to pick me up.
But it had been the anniversary of his mother’s death and I knew he’d be somewhere crouched in a dark corner and wiping his tears.
Another time in the South, I’d gone to confront a group of guys who had been harassing my sister, Jo, calling her a dyke and throwing all sorts of vile slurs her way.
The memory of that day still burned in my mind.
They were standing on the corner, laughing and jeering at her as she walked by, completely minding her own business.
“Freak!”
“Why don’t you act like a real woman for once? Out here walking like a man.”
“Maybe you just haven’t had the right man yet.”
She’d played it off and rushed into the house.
I grabbed a bat from my aunt’s garage and stormed out to deal with their raggedy asses.
No one was going to talk to my sister like that.
Jo could be whoever she wanted to be, and I wasn’t about to let anyone make her feel less than the incredible person she was.
When I reached them, I didn’t hesitate. I swung the bat at one of their heads.
I missed and they had laughed for a few seconds. . . then Marcy appeared out of nowhere.
And all that ha ha shit ended.
Pure terror covered their faces.
A few even backed up.
That day, Marcy took them all by himself.
I just stayed out of the fucking way.
It was madness!
Marcy broke one man’s arm with a single punch and the sickening crunch of bone echoed in my ears.
And all the blood that had splattered on the sidewalk that day. . .it kept me up the rest of the night.
But it was the next day that would be the true horror because boy was Marcy mad at me for even going out there by myself with the bat.
We must have argued about it the rest of the day. His eyes had blazed with rage as he towered over me, listing out all of the things that could have happened. “What if they had a gun?! What if they had a knife?!”
All I could do was stand back and listen, waiting for the moment when he finally calmed down.
Marcy had this thing inside his heart—a burning fury that was triggered whenever a woman was hurt.
He’d seen his mother beaten a lot as a kid and those memories haunted him.
Fueled a rage that always simmered just below the surface.
What sort of madness went through his tiny head when he hid in the shadows, powerless to stop his father as he punched and slapped, kicked and choked the living hell out of his mother?
What did it do to Marcy?
Perhaps, that helplessness had shaped him.
All I knew was that the moment Marcy hit puberty, he was working out in the gym like his life depended on it.
This meant that as kids, he was always bigger than anyone else, always towering, always needing to be the largest person in the room.
And it wasn’t just about size; it was about strength, control, and the power to protect.
Marcelo wasn’t a bully. He didn’t fight just anyone for the sake of it.
But mess with a woman right in front of him and there emerged a violent beast.
A monster.
A man twisted from the cruelest nightmares.
Now, as I looked down at the phone on the window sill, I knew I was about to face that same ferocity. “Marcy. . .I’m fine. . .really.”
“I let this get out of hand.”
“You can’t let anything happen because I am in control of this situation.”
“Has Lei hurt you?”
“No.”
“Not one fucking finger has touched your body?”
“Not to hurt me.”
“But he has touched you?”
“Marcy, what are you asking?”
“Are you safe?”
“The safest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”