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He lunged in and nearly caught Cayden’s middle. He was only wearing a T-shirt, and the material tore under the blade. My audible gasp drew Cayden’s attention.
He looked toward me, worried at my sound of fright. His concentration was compromised for just a second, but it was enough.
As Cayden’s worried eyes connected with mine, Jack lunged in again and buried the small blade in Cayden’s side.
“Cayden!” I screamed.
Marcus nearly lost control of me.
Nikolai nodded to me, seemingly unconcerned that Cayden had just been stabbed. “Time to go, sweetheart. My wife is invested in your safety, which means so am I. Get out of here, and I’ll take care of your boy for you.”
“Please, I need to stay to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”
“He’s already hurt, he’s been hurt for a long, long time…But I’m betting he’d like you safe. Take her.” His firm instruction left no room for disagreement.
Marcus tipped me over his shoulder and carried me to his bike, putting me on, despite my protests. I fought him trying to put the helmet on my head.
“You’re distracting him. Do you want him to get more hurt?” Marcus demanded.
His words sank through my panic. He was right. It was my fault he’d been hurt just now. I could see that he’d rallied and was back to fighting Jack, ignoring the cut in his side.
“We have to go. He’ll be fine if we go. Beckett and Asher are here, and that other dude, too,” Marcus reminded me.
“Ms. Sophie’s husband.”
“That’s our art teacher’s husband? Holy shit, remind me never to hit on her again,” Marcus mumbled.
I ignored him, staring at Cayden fighting Jack. Nikolai had settled back, stopping Beckett and Asher from joining the fray. He said he was giving Cayden room to slay his demons. Maybe he was right. I had no idea.
As I stared numbly at the sight, Marcus shoved my helmet on my head and got on the bike.
“Hold on,” he muttered and hauled my arms around his waist.
“We need somewhere to go, somewhere quiet, somewhere with medical stuff,” Marcus was saying. “What about that vet place you work at? Can you get in?”
“What? Yes… Yes, I can,” I sighed, trying to make my brain work again. I wanted to jump off the bike and run back to the fight, but what if I only made it worse?
“Good. Cade’s going to need someone to patch him up, and we can’t afford your dad hearing about it. Let’s go and get ready for it.”
Cayden
Jack was tiring out.He wasn’t fit, and his lifestyle was catching up with him, but hatred gave him strength he didn’t deserve.
He feinted right, and I saw it coming. Marcus had gone, carrying Lily off over his shoulder to his bike. I’d been so hyperaware of her that now that she was gone, I could concentrate on Jack and settling the score of a lifetime.
Anticipating his move, I kicked toward his rising knife, and the blade flew from his hand, disappearing into the grass somewhere. He looked down wildly, searching for it without results.
“Seems like it’s an even fight now, isn’t that right, Uncle Jack? Finally, you can pick on someone your own size,” I goaded. My side hurt vaguely, the pain registering in a distant part of my mind. I couldn’t think about it and get distracted. This confrontation had been ten years in the making.
I couldn’t believe he’d taken Lily. Lily. Sweet, smart Lily. Uncle Jack had known me better than I’d thought in the end. He’d immediately seen the one person I’d be attracted to and used her however he could. When I thought about her being in his clutches all night, I felt rage, a spiraling, never-ending darkness, taint my mind. Whatever Josh had had to do with it all, I’d find out shortly. Right now, I was just glad that Lily hadn’t been alone with Jack.
Jack swung for me, and I ducked under him, straightening up and lifting him off his feet. I pushed him back, and we crashed through the broken fence that kept the trailer park kids from the cliff.
I landed hard on Jack, crushing him under my weight. He slammed a hand into my injured side as we rolled over. The waves crashed below me. There was a storm coming, and electricity sizzled in the air.
Maybe this storm had been brewing since the day I’d started a fire in my foster parents’ kitchen. The day when I’d hoped that firefighters would carry me away and no one would take me back to the Cutlers. The day I hadn’t known that they’d been passed out in their beds and never even moved when the flames had taken the house.
“Are you enjoying yourself, boy? Hurting people is what you do, isn’t it?”
