“You’ll regret this,” he says.
I told myself that violence wasn’t the answer, well fuck him because he’s about to eat my fist.
I step into his line of sight, blocking it completely. “You’re not welcome here, Brian,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “You need to leave and stay away from Layla. She’s done with you, and so am I.”
Brian lets out a harsh chuckle, a mocking sound. “Done with me? She’ll never be done with me. She’s mine, and she always will be. And if you think you can keep her from me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He lunges free from Maverick and Carter’s grip, his fist flying toward my face.
I dodge just in time, and the blow grazes my cheek as I counter with a quick uppercut to his jaw.
Brian stumbles back, his eyes wide with surprise, but he quickly regains his footing and charges in again.
We both start fighting, and our fists collide in a flurry.
I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my muscles coiled and ready for his next strike. I manage to land a solid punch to Brian’s ribs, and he grunts in pain, his breath rushing out.
That still doesn’t stop him; he looks at me with wild, unhinged eyes, with rage dancing in his irises.
He lunges at me again but misses.
As he stumbles, I grab him by the collar of his flannel, my fist flying and connecting with his eye socket, then his nose and mouth. Blood splatters across the porch floor.
I don’t fucking care that I’m acting like a wild animal, and I’m not going to stop until he’s a bloody, broken mess.
Continuing to pummel him into the ground, my fistsmove on instinct, a blur of motion, until his body is limp and unmoving.
Standing over his prone form, I let out ragged exhales, shaking my fists as they ache from each punch. Blood stains my knuckles, but that’s the least of my worries.
Carter grips my shoulder. “Reed, stop. You’ve won. He’s not getting up.”
I shake my head in agreement, turning slightly to see Maverick standing in the doorway. His eyes are hooded, but a flash of pride shows in them. “That’s what that fucker gets.”
A smile touches my lips; it’s exactly what he deserves.
Brian’s still lying on the grass, out cold, his cheek pressed into the dirt.
Maverick’s already got his phone out, pacing near the steps. “Yeah, we need a unit out at Creek Way. Now. We have an idiot trespassing.”
He hangs up, jaw clenched. “They’re on their way.”
The porch door creaks open behind us, and Layla steps out slowly, with Catalina’s hand steadying her. Her eyes are wide, her face pale, yet she stands on her own.
“Baby, go inside,” I tell her gently.
“I just…” Her voice shakes. “Is he?—?”
“He’s fine,” I say, forcing calm into my tone. “Just not gonna be yellin’ for a while.”
Her gaze falls on Brian’s limp figure, the bruises on her throat still faint but visible. She swallows hard, tears welling in her eyes.
Maverick places a hand on my shoulder. “The sheriff will be here in five.”
We wait in silence, crickets filling the space between us.
Carter leans against the railing, arms crossed, every muscle in his body tense. Maverick paces again, mutteringunder his breath about “no one messes with the Hayes brothers.”
Flashing red and blue lights finally pierce the darkness, and the tension in my chest eases, just barely.
