The Untouchable Derek Cross

chapter 2

Immediately Derek's fist slammed into the thug's jaw with a bone-shattering crack. The man's head snapped back violently. His huge body lifted off the ground and flew backward, crashing into the wall so hard the plaster cracked. He crumpled to the floor, gasping, blood pouring from his mouth.

He tried to push himself up, his arms shaking.

Derek's boot came down on his spine, once.

The thug's scream tore through the room.

Twice.

Blood erupted from his mouth, splattering across the floor.

Three times.

His body convulsed, ribs cracking like dry wood.

“Stop! Please, God, stop! I'm begging you!”

The thug's voice was raw, broken, desperate. Tears mixed with blood on his face. He clawed at the floor, trying to crawl away.

Derek didn't stop. His face was like stone, his eyes empty. He lifted his boot again.

Four times, five times, six times.

The thug's left arm bent at an unnatural angle. Crack. His right arm twisted backward. Crack. His legs shattered, bones splintering through skin. The screams turned inhuman, shrill and animal-like, echoing off the walls.

Then Derek brought his boot down one final time, crushing the man's shoulder blade. The thug's body went limp. His face hit the floor. Blood pooled around him. He didn't move.

The room went silent. Nobody breathed.

The other thugs stood frozen, staring at Derek like he was something inhuman. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with terror. He radiated death. Pure, cold, unstoppable death.

One of them snapped. His eyes went wild. He grabbed a steel pipe and charged, screaming.

The others followed, gripping bats, knives, crowbars. Seven men rushed Derek all at once.

Derek moved.

His fist crushed the first man's nose, driving bone fragments into his skull. The man dropped instantly. Derek spun, his elbow connecting with another thug's temple. The crack echoed. The man's eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

A bat swung toward Derek's head. He caught it mid-air, ripped it from the thug's hands, and drove it into the man's kneecap. The knee exploded. The thug fell, shrieking, clutching his ruined leg.

Derek swung the bat into another man's ribs. The chest caved in with a sickening crunch. The thug's mouth opened in a silent scream, blood bubbling from his lips. He hit the ground, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

A knife flashed. Derek caught the wrist, twisted it until it snapped, and drove his knee into the man's gut. The thug vomited blood and collapsed.

Upon seeing what was happening, how easily Derek was dealing with them, the last two tried to run, they know that's the only way out.

They can't win this fight, their enemy is a monster.

However Derek grabbed one by the back of his neck and slammed his face into the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. The man slid down, leaving a long red smear on the plaster.

The final thug made it to the door. Derek's boot caught him in the lower back. His spine bent wrong. He hit the floor screaming, his legs useless.

Seconds. It took seconds, seven men lay scattered across the floor, groaning, sobbing, bleeding. Arms twisted backward. Legs bent at impossible angles, chests sunken. Blood everywhere, the smell of copper filled the air.

Derek's voice cut through the moans like a blade.

“Get out. Or I finish it.”

At that moment hearing what Derek just said, the thugs crawled. Dragged themselves with broken arms. Left trails of blood across the floor. They disappeared down the stairs, whimpering like beaten dogs.

The apartment fell quiet.

Derek stood there, breathing hard, not because he was tried because of the fight, but because he was disappointed in himself, disappointed for everything that happened, his fists still clenched. Then he turned.

His mother was staring at him, her whole body shaking. Tears streamed down her face. Her mouth trembled.

“Derek... is that... is that really you?”

Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.

“You're home. You're finally home...”

Hearing his mother words and seeing her, Derek's legs gave out. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his head bowing. His throat closed up. His eyes burned.

“Mom... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I let you suffer. I failed you. I failed everyone.”

His voice broke. He couldn't control it, Linda reached out with trembling hands. She touched his face, her fingers cold and shaking. Tears spilled over, running down her worn, tired face.

“You're back. That's all that matters. You're back. I missed you so much, Derek. Every single day. I was so scared... so scared I'd die before I saw you again. I thought about it every night. I prayed you'd come home.”

Immediately Derek looked up at her. His heart shattered. She looked so old. So broken. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles he didn't remember. Her hair was mostly gray now. Her eyes were sunken, hollow from years of crying, years of fear. Without been told he could tell she'd aged twenty years in his five years in prison.

Immediately rage burned through him. Hate so deep it felt like poison in his veins, he was the one that caused everything, he caused everything that happened to his family.

He hated himself. Hated how stupid, how blind, how weak he'd been.

And he hated the Morrisons. Hated them with every fiber of his being. Especially Claire. That smiling, vicious snake who'd destroyed his life, destroyed his family, and laughed while doing it.

Derek forced himself to turn toward his sister who has refused to say anything to him.

His heart stopped.

“Emily... your legs...”