Aiden.
Only when I turned to face him, he wasn’t looking at me—not really—he was looking at the blood.
“Evie—” He gasped, his words ragged like he’d sprinted here. His gaze darted from my face to Anderson’s grip on my arm, and I could see the split-second rage fill him.
I knew exactly what this looked like and Aiden would be out for blood if he thought Anderson had done this to me.
Before I could get a word out, he was moving. No hesitation, no warning, only a blur of motion slamming into Anderson.
Anderson’s hand was still gripping my arm as he staggered back. The impact shoved me into the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs. He didn’t go down, throwing up his arms to block the first strike. Aiden didn’t slow—he fought like a storm, wild but with precision behind every hit. The sound of fists on flesh was sharp and ugly, echoing in the cramped room.
Anderson grunted, trying to get a grip on him, but Aiden slipped free, driving his elbow into Anderson’s ribs.
“Stop! It’s not—” My words tangled in my throat, useless against the crash and scuffle in front of me. Neither of them could hear me. The fake blood felt tacky against my skin, and every time Aiden’s eyes flicked toward me between swings, they only got darker.
Anderson managed to shove him back into the sinks, the porcelain groaning under the weight. Water sputtered from one of the taps, splattering the floor.
Anderson went for Aiden’s shoulder, trying to twist him into the wall, and Aiden shoved back.
I stepped forward without thinking, hand reaching for Aiden’s arm to pull him off—only to catch Anderson’s elbow across my cheek. White heat exploded behind my eyes. The world tilted, and I stumbled, palm slapping against the fractured mirror before my weight dropped me hard against the sink’s edge.
Glass rattled. My cheek burned. For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Aiden’s head snapped toward me, and the look on his face made my breath hitch. I’d seen him angry before, but this was different. This wasferal.
He hit Anderson again—harder this time. A meaty, sickening sound that made my stomach twist. Anderson went down on one knee, gasping, but Aiden didn’t let him get up.
He swung and his fist connected with Anderson’s nose.
“Aiden, stop—” My voice was weak, but it got through enough for him to break contact. He grabbed my wrist, more gentle than I would have imagined he could, and started pulling me toward the door.
I glanced back once. Anderson was slumped against the stall, breathing hard, his eyes locked on me with something I wasn’t expecting—a warning, maybe. Or regret. I didn’t know, but it lodged in my chest like a splinter.
The door slammed behind us, cutting him off, and Aiden muttered under his breath about how he should go back and killhim. His hand found mine, holding it tight, before he pulled me into his chest.
“You’re hurt—tell me it’s not your blood.”
“It’s not mine.”
He held me a moment longer, just letting me breathe against him, his arms a solid shield around me. Then, with a low, almost possessive growl, he stepped back and started moving, guiding me out to the parking lot without another word, as his hand never left mine.
But over the pounding of my heart, I could still hear Anderson’s voice in my head.
The Order will be watching you. They already are.
Chapter 32
Evie
The rain had picked up, cold enough to cut straight through my shirt to my bones. Water slid down my spine, each drop a little shiver I couldn’t hide. Aiden had pulled me onto the bike and peeled out.
I almost smiled at the CBR 1000 under me, his favorite backup bike while his bike waited for its new gas tank.
My arm still ached where Anderson had grabbed me, my face numb where I had taken the elbow to it. The smell of fake blood clung to my shirt and I worried it would be there permanently.
Neither of us said a word as he wove through town. We hadn’t since he’d dragged me out of that bathroom.
Finally, we reached an old warehouse that was used long before the neighboring city, Valeport, grew its industrial section.
