She should pull back. She doesn’t.
Forty
NOW | SISK
Jax leans most of his weight on me as we stagger out of the club, my arm locked tight around his waist, supporting him more than holding him. As the door slams behind us, his legs nearly buckle, and I brace harder, fighting to keep us both upright.
A few more steps and we’ll hit the main stretch.How the hell are we supposed to ride the bike like this?I scan the street, looking for a car, a way out.
I don’t hear them until they are too close. A hand grabs my arm and yanks me back. Jax hits the ground, spent from the fight. “You think you can play us?” the man comes close to my face. I don’t recognize him, but I know what he is—one of the bettors. Angry, sweaty, drunk on loss. “You rigged it, you little?—”
His hand clamps onto my face, squeezing my cheeks painfully, forcing my mouth open before he slams his mouth against mine. I twist, try to bite, but he shoves me back into the alley wall. More footsteps. Two more men swarm in, boxing me against the brick. I look back and watch as one kicks Jax in the stomach when he tries to get up.
“Stay down, hero. You already did your part.”
I try to scream again. One of them grabs my top and yanks, and the corset rips at the shoulder strap. “Someone’s gotta payfor tonight,” the first guy says. “A lot of money just walked out of this place.” Their bodies press closer, trapping me. “Get off me!” A hand slams over my mouth, crushing the words before they’re fully out.
“Relax,” one of them rasps against my ear. “Won’t take long.”
“Golfo, make him watch.”
They shove Jax onto his back, one guy planting a boot on his chest to keep him down. “Yeah,” the taller one says. “Let’s see how tough he is when he can’t do shit.” My top rips further, and panic takes over my body. I keep trying to scream but the hand clamps harder. For one horrible second, I think—this is it.This is really happening. I kick, thrash, nails digging into someone’s wrist. A slap explodes across my face and my head rings.
“Hold her still.”
“Don’t break her yet.”
I taste blood. My ears roar. I see a glimpse of Jax struggling, trying to get up, only for another kick to send him crashing down again.
“Stay down,” the man snarls, his boot pressing into Jax. “You get to watch.” He turns to his friends. “I’m gonna rip her pants off and fuck her against this wall while you two hold her down. And you motherfucker, are going to lie there and listen to her scream on my cock.”
My eyes lock on Jax’s and I watch as the blue in them slowly bleeds away, replaced by a deep, burning red.
“What the?—”
Jax stands up quickly. The man standing over him barely has time to react before Jax’s hand snaps up and grabs his neck. There’s a crack, then another. His friend screams as his arm bends the wrong way, bone punching under skin.
The hand clamped over my mouth slips. The guy behind me stumbles back. Jax turns, and suddenly nobody wants to touchme anymore. Nobody wants to be here. Whatever just got up off the ground—it isn’t the man they just beat.It isn’t a man at all.
The two others panic and bolt toward the street. One of them doesn’t make it two steps. Jax flicks his hand and the man slams face-first into the brick wall like something invisible yanked him sideways. He drops twitching, his face no longer recognizable.
Jax starts toward the last one.
“No!” I shout, voice breaking. “Jax, stop!”
His shoulders tense. His head twitches slightly toward my voice, the red in his eyes flickers. The man doesn’t wait for permission, he runs disappearing down the street.
Jax sways, the red fading from his eyes. Fresh cuts rip open across his knuckles, but before I can gasp, they’re already knitting closed. I stare at his hands, at the skin that was split moments ago, now whole. My eyes fly to his face, and I watch in disbelief as every cut, every bruise, vanishes right before me.
“Are you… hurt?” he asks, stepping toward me.
I stumble back without thinking. A reflex. Pure instinct. The alley spins, and all I can see is the red in his eyes, the man who isn’t a man.
He stops, his whole body going rigid. The rage drains out of him, replaced by a wounded look that’s somehow worse.It’s the first time he’s ever seen me afraid of him.
“You’re… healing,” I say.
He doesn’t answer.
