Page 62 of The Silversmith

Shame tried to cripple me. I fought it, because even though they were right, it wasn’t fair.

Hair rose on my neck when the door burst open behind me. It slammed against the wall, unsettling dust that danced inside the invading rays of sunlight.

A startled gasp escaped my throat. Three strides, and the intimidating form of my angry protector was before me, assessing me for damage. The man was so unnaturally quick in spite of his size.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, cupping my face, eyes wild. “Did they touch you?”

“I—I’m fine.”

His chest heaved with violent breaths. He studied me for a few more moments, searching for proof that I was okay, fearing for signs that I wasn’t. Finally he turned, dropping his hands.

But I screamed when he grabbed Ezra by the throat and threw him up against the wall. Gemma gasped, covering her mouth with both hands while Caz and Finn both cursed and jumped.

“You brainless little shit!” Gavin pinned my cousin against the wall like a rag doll beneath his dominating hand. Ezra was tall but looked shrimpy in Gavin’s lethal grasp. “You put her in danger—”

“And you threw a knife at the woman—” Ezra choked, gritting his teeth as he tried in vain to pry Gavin’s steel grip off his neck. “Right next to Ary! You could have hit her! You could have missed!”

Gavin laughed, low and cruel. “I don’t miss.”

“You’re a fucking psycho!” Ezra gasped for air.

“And you’re lucky I don’t rip your throat out, Hart!” Gavin spat out Ezra’s surname like a curse. The others futilely shouted attempts to stop him, but he persisted, his deep voice thundering, “I don’t care if you decide to throw yourself onto a flaming pit of spikes, but you do not, under any circumstances, put her in harm’s way!”

“Enough!” I pleaded, eyes wide with horror. With every word he spoke, his grip on Ezra’s neck constricted, and I realized how much it would take—one twitch of his hand—and my cousin would be a permanent casualty of his rage. My sweet cousin, who’d only wanted me to see the sights. “Gavin, you’re hurting him!”

I felt four pairs of shocked eyes on me and realized it might be the first time they’d heard Gavin’s name. To them, he was only Smyth.

Trembling, I lunged forward and threw my arms around Gavin’s thick bicep, standing on the tips of my toes to reach it.

“Let him go!” I ordered, pulling on his arm with the full weight of my body. “Now!”

“Brawling in my pub already, Smyth?”

We turned to see a man standing in the doorway to a wider, brighter space. The main room of the tavern. He looked to be about mid to late twenties and had an impressive head of chocolate-brown curls and circular glasses.

“It’s not even suppertime.” He stepped forward and waved a lazy hand. “You could at least come out front, make a good show of it.” The man’s eyes widened when he shifted his attention to me, still hanging onto my protector’s arm. Then to Gavin. Back to me. He sighed, seized by quiet awe.

I gulped, realizing that Gavin’s friend knew exactly who I was just by looking at me.

“Let him go,” I said to Gavin, softer this time, relieved to see Ezra breathing again in the wake of a slowly relaxing grip. “Please. Let him go.”

With a deep, rumbling growl, Gavin released my cousin and stormed from the room without another word.

Ezra crumpled to the floor with his hands at his neck. I hated seeing those soft blue eyes and gentle smile contorted by bitterness and pain. I knelt beside him, stomach sick with worry.

“Well, then.” The man folded his hands and gave a wide smile, wholly unbothered by Gavin’s abrupt exit. “On that note, welcome to The Black Badger.”

Caz ran his hands over his face and through his hair, more distressed than I’d ever seen him. Finn and Gemma introduced themselves to our curly-haired host. I couldn’t hear his name or what they said. I was too focused on the angry red marks on Ezra’s neck, the damage that Gavin had done to my cousin all because of me.

“Ary, no!” Ezra reached for me as I turned to follow Gavin, my face hot with anger. “He’s out of his mind! Just let him go!”

But I slipped away after him into a dark room filled with bottles of wine and every type of liquor. Lining the walls were oak barrels filled with beer or whiskey imported from different regions across Nyrida, indicated by the rough scribble labeling each one. The rich aromas of smoke, caramel, and fruit packed into such a tight space burned in my nostrils.

Gavin was a master class in brooding, standing with the mountains of his shoulders flexed against the fabric of his black shirt, the shelving above his head groaning under the weight of his fingers. His forehead rested on a barrel of whiskey that jutted out from the top shelf. Even in the dark, I could see that his eyes were closed, his breathing unsteady.

Massive, but vulnerable at this moment. The sight almost sucked the breath from my lungs. But Ezra had been vulnerable when held against the wall moments away from strangulation. We all were vulnerable to Gavin’s mercy.

I shifted my feet loudly enough to announce my presence. Gavin’s eyes opened slowly. And I was about to reprimand him when—