The one in the middle holding the switchblade steps forward into the dim light, and my stomach plummets to the bottom of my feet. “Let’s see how tough you are now, cunt,” he spits, curling his lip in a sneer. It’s thependejoI punched a week ago for grabbing my ass beneath my skirt, one of the douchey frat boys. The right side of his face looks like a bruised peach, allpurple and blue with yellow spots.
Holy fuck! Is all that from when I punched him?
The moment they move toward me, I waste no time and launch toward the door. I grip the handle and fling it open, flying through the corridor at high speed. Normally, I would stop and question how the fuck I’m so fast, but I’m kind of in the middle of running for my life, so I don’t. Their pounding footsteps echo behind me as they get closer and closer. Adrenaline spikes my blood, and my heart rattles hard against my rib cage.
Before I can reach the front door, a hand grabs my ponytail and tugs hard, making me yelp as I lose my balance and careen backward, almost hitting one of the high-top tables. My scalp screams in pain at the feeling of a few strands getting ripped.
I send my elbow into the ribs of my attacker, and he lets me go with a sharp curse, but the one with the knife is already in front of me. He presses the cold, sharp blade into the side of my neck as his dull brown eyes bore into mine.
“One more move, and I’ll slice your throat,” he snaps, venom dripping from his tone as his leering gaze rakes over my body. “We’re going to teach you a well-deserved lesson, you stupid whore.”
My nostrils flare as the one that grabbed my hair locks my hands behind my back. “Three men against a woman. Hardly seems fair. Were you so afraid of me that you needed backup?” I bite back with a dry laugh and struggle against the hold.
I almost manage to free myself when the third one comes closer and backhands me, sending my head flying to the side. “Shut up, bitch!”
The exploding pain lends itself to little white dots swirling all around me as the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth. When it finally hits me that I’m all alone with three dangerous men, I start trembling. Abject fear impales me with the power of a thousand rusty nails, and the copper is quickly replaced byburning bile.
“Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” the one holding the knife commands, ill intent glimmering in his eyes as the blade bites into my skin, making me hiss, blood seeping from the superficial cut. “I’m going to shove my cock so far up your throat you’ll learn to never disrespect a man like that.”
I was trembling before, but now I shake violently as adrenaline seeps out of my pores. It triggers something deep within me. My skin prickles, and I swear I can feel my nails extending into claws. That’s not possible, right? It’s some sort of a trauma-induced hallucination. It has to be.
A vicious sound suddenly breaks through the eerie silence. It could only be described as a menacing growl, so powerful and raw it makes all the hair on my body stand on end as someone barrels through the front door. If I didn’t know better, I would say a giant wolf is behind us. What is weird is my reaction to the sound. I almost find it comforting, like it’s warming up my insides.
What the hell?
“Let her go before I break every single bone in your bodies and then tear out your useless spines with my bare hands,” a powerful voice booms, echoing off the walls.
We all turn toward the voice that sounds incredibly familiar. Before I can make sense of what is happening, my hands are free, and the one that had me immobilized is already sprawled on the hardwood floor in a pool of blood at my feet. I can barely register the movement as the asshole with the switchblade is thrown like a rag doll through the air before he collides with the corner of a pool table. The distinct crack of his head echoes before he falls to the ground with a loud thump and a grunt and stays there.
The third one that backhanded me mutters a curse and turns, running back toward the bathroom corridor. He barely movesbefore Logan tackles him like a pro linebacker. I shouldn’t be turned on at this moment, right? It would definitely be wrong of me, but dammit, if something deep inside of my chest doesn’t bloom with pride. Logan starts pummeling the guy into the floor, and I stare at him, transfixed by how his muscles ripple with unadulterated power. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to kill him, and he’s going to get in trouble just because of me.
I finally manage to make my legs listen to me and close the small space between us. I place my hand on Logan’s shoulder and chance a glance at my nails—not claws.Thank God.I must have been hallucinating earlier.
“Logan, please stop. You’re going to kill him,” I say in a soft voice.
Logan turns, his feral gaze slams into mine, and I don’t know how to explain this otherwise, but his eyes seem to glow. They go back to normal, though, after he blinks a few times. His knuckles are bloody, but I don’t think it’s his blood. He stands abruptly and swears under his breath as he lifts his hand and gently touches the place where the blade cut into my skin with his thumb, a frown marring his forehead.
“Do you know where the first aid kit is? Did they do anything else to you?” he asks, his voice thick with concern as he scans me up and down as if to search for more injuries.
I swallow, his proximity making me frazzled. “I’m fine. I think it’s just a superficial cut; I can clean it at home. You came just in time,” I answer, breathy for no other reason than him standing so close to me. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t come barreling through the door when he did.
Logan nods and then lifts me like I weigh nothing more than a feather, placing me on top of one of the chairs at the high-top table on my right. He takes out his phone, dials someone, and steps away from me.
“What happened? Why are you calling me at this hour?” a manly voice asks on the other end with urgency. I shouldn’t be able to hear the discussion so clearly, but I do.
“Kaiden, I need your help. Some assholes attacked Ava at the Shabby Shotglass. I took care of them. Can you send someone to deal with them and clean up? I need to take Ava home.”
“Are they dead?”
“No, just passed out,” Logan answers.
“I’ll be there in five,” Kaiden says, ending the call.
13
Ava
Iswear not even three minutes have passed when Kaiden walks through the front door of the bar, his strides long and purposeful as he reaches us. Like last week, he’s decked in all black with a leather jacket on top, but his hair is free, touching his shoulders. Everything about him gives don’t-fuck-with-me vibes. He looks at the three men who attacked me in a blatant show of disgust and then nods at Logan in acknowledgment.
