That’s Austyn’s Wife?

Her drunk friend muttered something, blissfully unaware of the situation. ‘I’m not taking you drinking anymore,’ Giana poked a finger at her friend’s flushed cheek. Giana glanced over at the stranger. He was leaning down in front of the slumped figure of Geoffrey, whose head was lolling sideways like a rag doll with a broken neck. Straightening up, Austyn tromped on Geoffrey’s left wrist, then the right. He worked methodically from the man’s carpal bones to his metacarpals, to his phalanges, breaking every bone in the hands that had touched Kira. Blood was gushing out of a gaping hole in the back of Geoffrey’s head. He whimpered, too weak to cry out. ‘Who the hell am I?’ Austyn spat out the words. ‘You don’t have the right to know.’ Geoffrey’s face was sheet white. The blood loss had carried away some of the alcohol from his system. He realised, belatedly, that the man had come down from the second floor, a place reserved for high-end clientele. He might have finally run into someone h