CHAPTER 154: BROTHER’S FURY

Trent’s hand was sliding down toward Emma’s thigh when the office door exploded inward with a thunderous CRACK that rattled the entire room.

"TRENT FUCKING HOLLOWAY!"

The roar shattered the air, raw and furious, as if pure rage had been squeezed through a vocal cord crusher. "I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Before Trent could even register the explosion of sound, a fist rocketed into his jaw with the force of a battering ram, sending him crashing backward over his desk. Papers and office supplies erupted in a chaotic avalanche, like a violent storm in miniature.

"Peter..." Emma’s voice was barely a breath—thick with tears and trembling relief—as she recognized her brother’s familiar, furious face contorted with protective wrath.

She didn’t hesitate. Emma bolted across the room, collapsing against the far wall, curling into a tight, sobbing ball—a mixture of terror, shock, and a fragile, desperate relief that someone had finally come to pull her out of hell.

"HOW DARE YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!" Peter bellowed, his enhanced voice rolling like thunder, rattling windows and shaking the fluorescent lights overhead. His eyes locked onto Emma’s trembling, tear-streaked form, drinking in the sight of her shattered, broken spirit.

Something primal and violent snapped inside him—a switch flipping from brotherly love to unrelenting fury.

Trent struggled to rise, blood dripping from a split lip, face a cocktail of stunned disbelief and burgeoning rage. At six-foot-two, athletic and twenty-seven, he was accustomed to having the upper hand over teenagers.

"You little shit," Trent snarled, pulling himself upright, voice rough with venom. "Do you have any idea who you just—"

Peter didn’t wait to hear the rest.

A second fist slammed into Trent’s solar plexus, winding him with the brutal precision of a freight train hitting its target. Air whooshed out of Trent’s lungs in a cruel rush, doubling him over like a broken puppet.

But Peter wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

His enhanced strength and reflexes transformed him into a force beyond human—an avenging storm fueled by seeing his sister’s terror.

Trent tried to twist away from the next strike, but Peter’s fist caught the side of his temple, jolting his head violently and sending him crashing into the bookshelf. Academic awards and framed certificates cascaded like fragile snowflakes in a violent blizzard, the entire unit swaying on the verge of collapse.

"You sick fucking predator!" Peter growled, grabbing Trent by the shirt and slamming him hard against the wall. His voice dropped into a whisper that was colder and more terrifying than any scream. "You think you can touch my sister?"

Survival instincts finally flared in Trent’s eyes. He launched a wild haymaker, brutal enough to floor most teenagers—but Peter moved like time slowed to a crawl.

He ducked under the wild swing and drove his knee hard into Trent’s ribs, a crack like breaking wood echoing through the room.

The sound Trent made was a horrific cross between a scream and a strangled gasp.

"Fight back!" Peter snarled, grabbing Trent’s head and forcing it down to meet a rising knee. The impact sent blood spraying across the office wall in a grotesque burst—abstract violence painted in crimson.

Each of Peter’s blows landed with bone-crushing authority, the sickening wet cracks of breaking ribs and shattered defenses ringing through the confined space.

Trent was bigger, stronger—under normal circumstances. But there was nothing normal about Peter Carter in protective rage mode. Every enhanced ability, every supernatural edge, funneled into one relentless mission: destroy the man who had terrorized his sister.

Peter’s fist connected with Trent’s nose in a wet CRUNCH that made several onlookers gag. Blood exploded across their faces as cartilage and bone shattered. Trent’s scream cut short by another savage punch to the solar plexus, lifting him off his feet.

"This is for every time you scared her!" Another punch snapped Trent’s head sideways, spraying blood across the far wall. "This is for every time she came home afraid!" A brutal uppercut sent Trent’s knees buckling. "This is for every fucking nightmare you gave my sister!"

Peter grabbed Trent by the hair, slamming his face into the desk edge—once, twice, three times. On the third impact, the wood cracked. Trent’s face became a bloody mess of split skin and broken bones.

The office was chaos—desk overturned as Trent crashed into it, the computer monitor shattered in a shower of plastic and glass, professional certificates fluttering like snow as Peter systematically demolished both man and environment.

When Trent lunged for a letter opener, desperation fueling his attack, Peter caught his wrist and twisted until bones snapped audibly. The weapon clattered harmlessly to the floor as Trent screamed.

"You want to hurt children?" Peter’s voice was barely recognizable, distorted by fury and his supernatural strength. "Let me show you what it feels like to be helpless!"

He lifted Trent off the ground with one hand, choking the life out of him while hammering his face repeatedly with the other—each blow sending fresh sprays of blood, each crushing impact breaking more than bones, breaking Trent’s will to ever hurt again.

A growing crowd pressed forward, phones out to record the aftermath of a war zone. Among them, Jack Morrison stood frozen, pale and wide-eyed.

’Is that the same kid I used to throw in trash cans?’ Jack thought, stumbling back. The Peter Carter he remembered was a quiet nerd who took beatings without fighting back. This? This was something else—dangerous, terrifying, and utterly unstoppable.

"Peter! PETER!" Emma’s voice sliced through his rage like a knife. "Please stop! Please!"

Peter’s head snapped toward her, fury flickering and faltering for the first time. When his eyes landed on Emma—pressed trembling against the wall, her relief tangled with fear of him—something inside his chest shattered.

He dropped Trent like a broken doll, who crumpled to the floor in a grotesque heap, then stepped toward Emma with hands raised in peace.

"Em, I’m sorry," Peter’s voice cracked, tears spilling unbidden. "I’m so sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to—I just—when I saw what he was doing to you, I couldn’t—"

Emma flinched as he moved closer. Seeing her afraid of him tore at Peter’s heart until his tears fell freely.

"I’m sorry, Em. So fucking sorry. I never wanted you to see me like this. I never wanted to scare you." His voice broke completely, the supernatural fury giving way to raw, devastated guilt. "I just couldn’t let him hurt you anymore. I couldn’t—"

"Peter!" Sarah’s sharp voice cut through the charged silence as she pushed into the office, taking in the devastation, her brother’s bloodied knuckles, and Emma’s shaken state. No questions—she knew her siblings well enough to understand that whatever had happened, Peter had been protecting Emma.

Madison appeared beside Sarah, pale with shock. "Peter, what—"

"Take Emma away," Peter said quietly, wiping blood from his knuckles. "Both of you. Get her out of here."

"Peter, we’re not leaving you—" Madison began.

"NOW!" Peter’s voice thundered with authority that made them both swallow hard. His eyes bore into them—no argument, no hesitation. He had just unleashed violence to protect his family and would do it again without flinching.

Sarah moved swiftly to Emma, helping her to stand, while Madison positioned herself as a protective shield between the sisters and the gathering crowd.

"Come on, Em," Sarah whispered. "Let’s get you out of here."

As they started to leave, Trent struggled to sit up against the wall, blood dripping from his shattered face, hatred burning bright in his eyes.

"You little psychopath," he wheezed through broken teeth and split lips. "I’m going to end your pathetic lives. All of you. I’m going to destroy your family, ruin your futures, make you wish you’d never been born."

Peter’s head turned slowly, deadly calm. "Say that again, motherfucker."

Before he could move, strong hands gripped his arms from behind. The football team had arrived—Tyler Hayes, and three others forming an unyielding wall between Peter and Trent.

"Easy, Carter," Tyler said, voice tight with tension. "It’s over. Don’t make this worse."

In the distance, sirens wailed louder, growing closer—the inescapable sound of authority arriving, consequences that couldn’t be bargained or fought off with fists or fury.

Peter’s gaze swept the ruined office, Trent’s battered form, the crowd of witnesses recording every brutal second—and the approaching sirens that meant everything was about to come crashing down.

The reckoning of his actions was here. At least he’d protected his sister. To hell with consequences.