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"Yeah."
"I've had a tip-off that he's heading this way and bringing some friends."
"We'll be there in ten," I snap out, buckling up as Dalton fires up the engine.
"Make that five," Dalton says with a grin as he presses his foot on the clutch and puts the car in first, the back wheels of the car spinning as he floors the gas.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as the car lurches forward with a powerful surge, and I grip on to the edge of my seat as we race through the winding roads, narrowly avoiding collisions and leaving a trail of startled honks in our wake. Dalton handles the car with cool precision, his hands gripping the steering wheel with unwavering determination.
“Am I going to need a lawyer?” Dalton jokes as we screech to a halt outside Bandits, our car coming to rest amidst a cacophony of shouting and crashing sounds. He knows as well as I do that whatever is about to happen will never get close to the courts, let alone any police.
How many times have we been in this position? Too many to count. Mostly I’m the one left to deal with the arseholes threatening the families, but there have been occasions when my friends have been involved too. Over the years they’ve had my back, as much as I’ve had theirs, and I’m grateful for their friendship, their loyalty. Without uttering a word, I spring out of the car, storming through the entrance, Dalton close behind me.
Inside, Ben stands near the counter, his muscles taut with determination as he wields a bat with deadly precision. Five men surround him, their faces twisted into malicious grins as they circle him. I catch the eye of the bastard who started all this shit the night Lia and Toby entered Bandits, the wound I gave him is sewed together haphazardly, making him seem even more menacing.
“Watch out!” Dalton shouts, the sound of shattering glass echoing throughout the room as one of the men smashes a bottle against the surface of a table, lunging for Ben who, thanks to Dalton’s warning, bats it out of his hand with a loud crack.
"Motherfucker!" the man shouts, holding on to his injured hand as he staggers backwards.
Without hesitation, Dalton and I join the fray, our bodies moving in sync as we charge towards the intruders. The atmosphere crackles with a primal energy, each swing of our fists punctuated by the deafening thud of knuckles meeting flesh. The air becomes a maelstrom of chaos and fury, bodies colliding and curses reverberating throughout the bar.
I catch a glimpse of Dalton, his eyes ablaze with righteous anger as he unleashes a flurry of powerful blows, sending his opponents sprawling to the ground like discarded puppets. Together, we fight as one, the rhythm of our violence echoing throughout the room. Blood stains the floor, mingling with spilled drinks and shattered debris. My vision becomes blurred as I unleash a volley of strikes, my body moving on pure instinct.
Amidst the chaos, Ben's gritty determination propels him forward as he wields his bat with unwavering purpose. One by one the men fall, their bodies crumpling to the floor from our relentless onslaught, leaving only one man standing. The prick who I cut.
"You were warned never to come back," I shout, swiping my bloody knuckles against my jeans as I step over one of the men who's out cold. There's only one way to end this, and that's this bastard's broken body thrown into an unmarked grave, alongside the rest of his men.
"You think I'd let that go?" he asks, his snarl turning into a deranged grin as he lunges forward, swinging wildly at me. We exchange more blows, blood spraying from the barely healed knife wound that I inflicted the last time he decided to fuck with us. Each punch is more brutal than the last.
His fist connects with my jaw, sending a shockwave of pain through my body, but despite his ferocity, he's no match for my pent-up rage. I am merciless, raining down a storm of punches until he crumples to the ground on his hands and knees, panting like a dog.
With a savage grip on his hair, I violently jerk his head back and continue to unleash my fury upon him. Each strike of my clenched fist delivers a sickening thud as I scream.
“YOU.”
His jaw shatters under the force of my blows.
“ARE.”
A brutal punch to the bridge of his nose sends blood flying outwards.
“DEAD,” I roar, my fist raised high as I prepare to deliver the final strike.
Crimson blood flows from his broken nose, lip and brow. His eyes are swelling shut, the skin around them a grotesque shade of purple, and his hastily stitched scar is ripped open once again.
“You should never have come back,” I spit, my whole body vibrating with violence.
“Fuck. You,” he retorts, gathering all the saliva and blood in his mouth and spitting at my face. The putrid mixture splatters across my skin and slides down my temple. Rage overtakes me and I clench my fists so tightly that my nails draw blood from my palms. My vision blurs as I imagine all the ways I could kill him right now.
But instead of ending this with one last fatal punch, a sudden eerie stillness creeps into the room, suffocating any thoughts of revenge. My heart races as I struggle to resist the urge to end his life. Once again, images of Lia and Toby flash through my mind reminding me of the man I want to be, not this thug everyone needs me to be. With great effort, I release his hair and take a step back, refusing to give in to the violence inside of me.
My clenched fist lowers.
I won't fucking do it.
"Drix?" Ben questions as I meet Dalton’s gaze.
Understanding passes between us and he nods.
