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She moved like a fighter.
She’d never needed me to teach her how to fight. She hadn’t needed runs or boxing bags or fancy techniques.
The girl had worked at Psychos long enough to know a thing or two. She might have lost her confidence for a minute there, but Rebel was back, kicking ass and taking names.
Until the guy caught her around the waist, lifting her off the ground.
She kicked and scratched and fought, twisting in his arms, screaming insults at him at the top of her lungs.
My heart stopped, watching him toss her into that van, her back hitting the metal with a bone-jarring thud.
“Get in! Get in!” the driver yelled. “One will do!”
My stomach turned, nauseated. I was sure I recognized Caleb’s voice, even though I couldn’t see the driver behind his mask.
How the fuck did he know where they were? Had he been watching us this entire time?
But there was no time for questions. I was nearly there. Nearly within arm’s reach. I pushed my body to the limit, a roar bellowing from somewhere deep within me.
I was going to be too late. I wasn’t going to freaking get there.
Bliss ran in, grabbing the man’s jacket, hauling him back as he tried to get in the van.
Rebel launched herself at him at the same time like some pro wrestler jumping off the corner buckles, using her body weight, and the fact Bliss already had him off balance, to send the man backward onto the grass at the edge of the road.
I was on him a second later, red haze covering my eyes. I ripped his mask off and held him down so Rebel could do her worst.
With a squeal of tires and the sliding door still open, the van sped away, Caleb leaving his friend for dead.
Dead he was going to be if I let Rebel keep going. The guy’s face was a mess thanks to those knuckle-dusters and her vicious fury. He was barely moving beneath me.
“Hey, Little Demon. You won. He’s tapped out.”
She just kept going, her fists slamming against his skin until Fang pulled her off him.
On instinct, she went to punch him too, the fury inside her evident from the wild, unfocused expression in her eye.
I knew that look. It came from fighting for your life.
The gleam of victory as Fang held her and talked her down came next. She stared at the bloodied man, breathing hard, taking in what she’d done.
“I won?” she asked.
I cringed at the guy’s face while sirens wailed nearby. “You definitely won. He ain’t getting up anytime soon.”
Rebel broke free of Fang’s hold, her entire body vibrating, likely thanks to the adrenaline.
I grinned at her. I knew exactly what it felt like when you won the fight you didn’t think possible.
It was hot and heady and exciting. Addicting.
I could see her feeling all those things too. And more.
A couple of beat cops arrived in a wail of sirens. They sent for backup and an ambulance when we explained what had happened. There were dozens of witnesses, and the guy Rebel had taken down was loaded and driven away while the cops finished up the last of the statements.
We stood in a huddle, watching them leave. Nash and Scythe had Bliss sandwiched between them, and the women stood around Kara in the same way Vaughn, Fang, and I circled Rebel.
“That guy was one of the Sinners,” Fang said quietly. The last of the crowd of onlookers disappeared, leaving just our group. “I recognized him.”
