The Marvelous Ethan Cole

Chapter 8

Daniel hit the floor face-first.

He didn't catch himself. His hands never came up in time and his face took the full impact, his nose making a sound that turned every stomach in the room. He rolled onto his side and blood poured freely from his mouth, thick and dark, running down his chin and spreading across the polished floor beneath him. More blood came from his nose, both nostrils, streaming down over his lips. The shape of his face had already changed slightly, his nose sitting crooked where it hadn't been crooked before.

He lay there making small, wet sounds.

The room was completely frozen.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Every single person in that hall stood exactly where they were and stared at the man on the floor and then at Ethan standing over him, and not one of them could put together a sentence.

Then it started, low at first, a whisper from somewhere near the back.

“Did he just—”

“He hit him. He actually hit him.”

“Daniel Hargrove. He just slapped Daniel Hargrove.”

“Did you see that? Did you actually just see that?”

The whispers spread fast, table to table, person to person, the shock passing through the room like electricity through water.

“He has a death wish.” A woman near the far wall pressed her hand to her mouth. “That's what this is. He has an actual death wish.”

“A rat like him just put his hand on Daniel?” A man in a gray suit shook his head slowly, his face twisted with disbelief. 

“An absolute rat. A street rat just slapped Daniel Hargrove. In this house.”

“He's insane. He has to be insane.”

“A worthless nobody. A freeloader with a broken-down restaurant and he's in here hitting people. Unbelievable.”

Victoria moved before she finished thinking about it, crossing the room quickly, her heels sharp against the floor. She grabbed Ethan's arm with both hands and pulled.

He didn't move.

“You have to go.” Her voice was low, urgent, almost shaking. “Right now, Ethan. You have to leave right now. You don't understand what you just did. They are not going to let this go. You have to run, you have to—”

“Run?” Daniel's voice came up from the floor.

It was rough and wet and broken at the edges, but it was there.

He pushed himself up slowly, one arm shaking under his weight. Blood dripped from his chin to the floor. He got one knee under him, then the other, and he raised his head and looked at Ethan with eyes that had gone completely dark.

“Run to where?” he said. 

“Where do you think you're going to go?” He spat blood to the side. “You think you can walk out of here after what you just did? You think she can protect you?” He laughed, and the sound was ugly and broken. “Both your hands. I'm going to have both your hands cut off. I'm going to have them trimmed right at the wrist and I'm going to keep them in a jar.”

The crowd stirred.

Someone sucked in a breath.

“Who told you,” Ethan said quietly, “that I'm running?”

At that moment Daniel looked at him.

“I'm not finished with you,” Ethan said.

“I'm just getting started.”

The room erupted.

“He's not remorseful.” A woman pointed. 

“Look at him. He's standing there like he didn't just—”

“Get on your knees!” a man shouted from across the room. 

“You should be on your knees begging right now!”

“He's a fool. We always knew it. Always.”

“Cut off his own hands. That's what he should do. Save Daniel the trouble.”

“A complete fool. A death wish. That's what this is.”

“He's smiling. Is he actually—look at his face. He's not even scared.”

Victoria still had her hands on his arm. She looked at his face and she felt something shift in her chest that she didn't have a name for, because this was not the man she had spent the last several months barely tolerating. This was not the man who dropped his eyes every time her uncle said something cutting at the dinner table. This was not the man who apologized his way through every room he walked into.

She didn't know who this was.

“Ethan,” she said quietly.

He didn't look at her.

His eyes were on Daniel, who was still on one knee, still pushing himself up, one hand now pressed to his jaw where the swelling had already begun to rise and distort the shape of his face.

“You're going to be sorry,” Daniel said, getting his feet under him. 

“I want you to know that. Whatever you think is happening right now, you are going to be so sorry—”

Ethan moved.

One step forward, his right leg coming up, and he kicked Daniel in the chest.