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Bash and I hop over the porch railing and take two steps forward when I see Natalie running up to us through the sand. She launches herself into my arms and starts sobbing uncontrollably.
Running my hands over her hair, I lift her face to see her eyes. “Natalie. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Are you okay? What happened?”
She buries her face in my shirt, and I lift my head, looking at Bash. His eyes are wide and murderous, mirroring my own emotions.
What the hell happened?
I turn my head when I hear footsteps running up the sandy path. It’s Darby. He has blood pouring out of his nose and down his face. His grey shirt is soaked with it.
I’m gonna kill him.
The thought takes control of my body as I let go of Nat.
Feeling my grip loosen, Nat grabs the front of my shirt, and leans her body against mine, as if her legs were about to fall out from under her.
A crowd is starting to form around us. The party goers are hearing the commotion and curious to know what’s happening.
Bash keeps his cool. He walks over and grabs Darby with both hands by the front of his blood-soaked shirt.
“You better start talking now, man. This doesn’t look good. What the fuck happened?”
Darby takes a step toward me but is stopped by Bash’s hold.
Pointing at the girl shaking in my arms, he yells, “That fucking, crazy bitch broke my nose. That’s what fucking happened. You fucking Sinclairs are all fucking entitled, crazy mother fuckers.”
Wrong answer.
Bash lets go with his right hand, still holding him in place with his left.
He rears back and unleashes a fist straight to Darby’s chin.
His body goes completely rigid, a split second before he falls to the ground.
Sand kicks up against the weight of his impact.
A guttural scream rips from Natalie’s throat.
Bash walks over to where I’m shielding Nat, asking the questions I didn’t get answers to yet.
“Nattie. What happened?”
“Are you okay?”
“You can talk to us.”
He has his hands on her on her back, rubbing softly as she continues to grip my shirt and sob.
Turning, I see Landon and tell him to go find Cooper.
“Is he dead?” Her terrified voice comes out one step above a whisper.
Bash removes his hands. “No, Nattie. He’ll live. The mother fucker is just out cold.”
She raises her head, meeting my eyes. Tears cling to her lashes and leave tracks down her beautiful face. “Please get me out of here. I don’t want everyone to see this.”
There’s a loud crash that rivals the thunder from earlier in the night, followed by the pounding footsteps of Cooper, Murphy, and Chloe running down the stairs.
Cooper looks at Darby bloody and laid out on the ground, then looks at his sister, shaking uncontrollably in my arms, and I watch an animalistic rage transforms his face.
