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My eyes narrow, and I dig my fingers into my thighs so I don’t scramble across the table to smack him. “Why?”
“You know why.”
I do, but I don’t care about the complications she brings. “If you ain’t gonna stand by us, then what the fuck point is there in us stayin’ here?”
“He ain’t leavin’.” It’s Hawk this comes from. His eyes are down, staring at his clasped hands on the table, the white of his knuckles showing as the skin stretches tight across the bones. “He walks, I’m gonna have to go with him, and I got a wife and four fuckin’ kids. I don’t want to trail them around the fucking country.”
I hold my breath, not sure where the fuck this is going, but when Brewer comes to his feet, I’m braced for anything. “You’re not leaving with my fucking sister,” he snaps, leaning across the table to get into Hawk’s face. “And Rage isn’t going anywhere anyway. This is his home.”
The warmness spreading through my chest threatens to burn me alive. This shit would never have happened in London. Those brothers are good men, but they would have let me go. This loyalty, it makes me feel like I’ve have found my place, and Skye is a part of that.
Howler’s mouth pulls into smirk. “The rest of you feel the same?”
Blackjack shifts his shoulders. “He’s a pain in the arse, but he’s our pain in the arse.”
“I could take or leave him,” Terror says in a bored tone.
I don’t react to him. Terror’s a fucking prick sometimes. “So, what do we—”
All eyes turn to the door as loud thumping sounds off the wood. “Open up! Please!”
The panicked voice belongs to Ophelia. Brewer stands so fast, his chair topples over behind him as he rushes around the end of the table to shove the door open.
Old ladies know better than to interrupt church, so the fact she has is fucking terrifying. Everyone is on their feet as Brewer reaches for her, his own panic evident.
“Trick’s here. He’s lost his mind. He’s…” She licks her lips, her eyes darting in my direction.
I don’t wait for her to say more. The look Ophelia gives me tells me everything I need to know. I shove up out of my seat and out the room. My heart is in my throat as I step into the common room and see the scene in front of me.
The girls—Hope and Pia—are trying to drag Trick back, but he’s got height and weight on them. As he shifts to the side, I see why they’re fighting him.
He has Skye by the throat and is walking her back through the throng of tables. Her eyes are wide and fearful as she fights against his grip.
I thought I’d been angry in the past, but the wave of fury that rolls through me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. My body is hot and cold at the same time, and there’s a ringing in my ears as I see red. Literal red.
I’m not aware of anything as I rush across the room towards him. The only thought in my mind is I’m going to tear his fucking head off and beat him until he can’t breathe near her again.
My blood feels like it’s hurtling through my veins like a bullet train, and that ringing in my ears is getting louder.
Skye notices me a split second before I wrap my arm around Trick’s thick neck and drag him back. I’m vibrating with fury as I tear him off my pregnant girl.
I’m going to eviscerate him. Brother or not, he’s a dead man. There’s lights flashing behind my eyes as he tries to fight me, but I keep him pulled against my chest, my hold choking him.
He slams his elbow back, catching my stomach, and pain spirals through my abdomen as the women scatter back out of the way.
Releasing him, I let him twist around to face me before I run at him, crashing into his body with enough force to take us both down. My body is jarred as I hit the edge of a table before going the rest of the way down. I try to stop my momentum, throwing out my hands to break my fall, then sharp pain spears through my palms.
Glass, I realise a beat too late. We must have knocked over a table full of bottles or glasses. I don’t give a fuck about the pain slicing through me, nor the blood dripping from my hands.
I push up, roaring as I kick my foot into Trick’s gut. It’s not enough. I grab his shirt and pull him close enough to slam my fist into his face.
The satisfaction I feel when his nose explodes is electrifying. Blood sprays into the air like an aerosol and mine combines with his, leaving smears on his clothes and throat as I hit him again and again, blind rage making my punches heavy. I’m not holding back. I’m hitting with nineteen years of pure undulating anger. I want to kill him. I want to tear his throat out and rip his heart from his chest.
I want him to feel the same terror I felt seeing his hands on my girl.
That shit broke something inside me that I don’t know if I can ever fix. The volcano is erupting within me, and I can’t stop the red-hot feelings swamping me.
I gnash my teeth together, pulling him inches from my face. He shoves his palm upwards, intending to hit my nose, but I’m faster. I’m driven by something far darker than he is. I bend his hand back, feeling the bone snap. To his credit, he only screams a little, but it doesn’t soothe the raging beast inside me.
