“Stop. You’re making it sound like—” “Like you were defending yourself,” he interrupts. “Like you were defending us. You saved your own life, and mine, and the only reason he’s dead is because he tried to hurt us.” I swallow, hard. Another memory flickers. Not of brown eyes, but an ugly snarl. “Bitch,” he’d called me, right before he threw me to my death. Beau tugs my head back until I’m looking at him, almost upside down. “Dom and me, we killed eight between us out there. You hatin’ on us as much as you’re hatin’ on yourself right now?”
