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The air around us crackles as Scott takes a step closer. Rage burns in his eyes along with madness.
Zeb faces off against Scott, ready for battle. The men remind me of two wild animals facing off. Neither will back down or run away, not when I’m the prize.
Scott blinks first and launches at Zeb, fists clenched in seething fury. His breathing is uneven and wild as Zeb steps protectively between Scott and me.
He’s a wall of steel—a force no man can break.
I’ve never seen Zeb this way before—powerful, deadly, and unyielding. It’s both awe-inspiring and disturbingly frightening all at once.
Despite the danger posed by Scott’s madness, Zeb makes me feel safe beside him; knowing I can depend on him to protect me even if it puts himself in jeopardy.
Scott stops short when he sees the deadly intensity radiating off Zeb.
“She’s mine.” Spittle flies from Scott’s mouth. He launches forward, head down, charging like a bull intent on knocking Zeb off his feet.
But Zeb is ready for that. His muscles twitch, and he waits until Scott’s close enough. He throws a vicious right uppercut that meets Scott’s jaw.
It’s enough to lift Scott off his feet and dump him down on his ass in a tangle of limbs, but Scott doesn’t stay there. Up and back on his feet, Scott blinks twice, staggers until he regains his balance, then he stands straight, shaking it off.
“This fight is over.” Zeb’s tone is at once a threat and a promise.
Scott stands still, tall and proud, enraged and filled with jealousy. His nose bleeds; hard to say if it’s broken. Then he takes a step toward me.
“She’s mine. She belongs to me.” Scott shifts his attention to me; a deadly glare.
“Sorry, but she’s made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want you.” Zeb matches Scott’s step.
It’s like watching a train wreck and already knowing the outcome. Zeb’s a trained killer and takes down men ten times worse than Scott.
But Scott can’t see that. He feints left and throws a snap right, aimed low to hit Zeb in the solar plexus.
But Zeb sees it coming a mile away. He twists at the waist, taking the hit and absorbs the momentum. His body rotates, coiling like a spring, winding tight until releasing energy in an explosive burst of violence and speed.
Unlike Scott, Zeb’s attack is precisely timed and controlled. It starts with his returning elbow, moving in an arc of destruction. The backward rotation of his center of mass feeds it, adding extra velocity and force until he chops down sharply against the side of Scott’s neck.
The hit drops Scott to his knees.
This time, it takes Scott longer to get up. His legs wobble when he straightens, and his hands go out wide, as if seeking extra balance.
Zeb doesn’t wait.
He steps in and hits Scott again, same arm, same ferocious force, but coming from the opposite direction. Instead of his elbow, Zeb backhands Scott below the left eye, knuckles to bone. Scott staggers back, but recovers. He blinks and swings, aiming at Zeb’s face, but fails to touch Zeb who sidesteps the sloppy hit.
Zeb grabs Scott by the shoulders, squares off against him, then jabs his knee up and into Scott’s midsection again and again.
Scott goes down and this time, he doesn’t move. That doesn’t stop Zeb.
“Help me get his shoes off.”
“Why?”
Zeb rips off Scott’s sneakers and tosses them at me. “I need the shoelaces.”
Rolling Scott face first into the dirt, he grabs Scott’s arms and secures his wrists at the small of his back.
“Hand me the laces.” He holds out his hand and I give him one set of the laces.
One of Scott’s eyes opens. His voice slurs and I can only make out every other word. “You’ll-regret… Find—her.”
