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I look over my shoulder at Prez, who crosses his arms and nods his head at me like Mr-fuckin’-Miyagi from Karate Kid.
I release the fucker, letting him slump at my feet. A glance over to Shaniya sets off pins and needles in my chest, especially when I see her weeping for him.
I head back toward Prez, ignoring the outbreak of commotion that’s coming from behind me until I catch the worried look on Jessie’s face. He’s suddenly racing toward me and pulling the gun from the inside of his cut.
When I spin around to look for what he’s charging at I just manage to block the blade that's risen above my head, feeling its sharp edge scrape through my arm. Tawk stands in front of me, broken and bloody and I flick my eyes between the dagger in his hand and the gash he’s just torn through in my skin.
“Well, now he’s fucked it.” I hear Squealer’s voice before I launch at the asshole who tried to stab me and tackle him to the ground. Pinning his arms into the dirt with my knees I strike him with alternating fists, laying blow after blow into his face.
I don’t stop until strong arms grip my biceps and haul me away from the sorry son of a bitch. Nyx, Jessie, and Brax all working together to stop me from killing him.
“You good?” Jessie asks, putting his body between me and the bloody mess on the floor, his forehead butts into mine, trying to get me to focus and calm down. I look at Tawk then at my injury, and I know he’ll be hurting a whole lot worse than I will in the morning.
“I’m good, brother,” I assure Jessie, and when he steps back I wipe my bloody hand under my nose before taking another look at the gash on my arm.
“You should teach your warrior some respect,” Prez shouts at the chief bitterly. “In normal circumstances pulling a knife on a brother will get a man killed.”
Shaniya’s eyes flit between me and her fallen warrior and I hate that I’m unable to read the thoughts behind them. She’s just witnessed the real me. A brutal monster that doesn’t take failure as an option.
“Tend to him,” the chief orders her, gesturing his head down at Tawk. As she steps toward his broken body, wiping tears off her cheek, I sense that I’ve lost the girl that was never mine.
Watching the two men fight isn’t something I wanted to do, and yet I couldn’t look away. Troj had full control of the fight from the start, Tawk didn’t even manage to get a hit on him. I could feel my uncle’s confidence shriveling as he stood beside me and watched Tawk being defeated. And I felt relieved for Tawk when he eventually called an end to the fight and announced that Troj would represent us all against Ivan’s man.
Troj looked unremorseful as he stared across at me with Tawk helpless at his feet. Turns out my uncle had been right, these men really are ruthless. The way Troj just fought was unrelenting. I can only imagine the damage he could have done if allowed to continue.
Troj turns his back on Tawk, making his way toward Prez and the other outlaws, while Tawk steadily raises himself onto his feet again. Something in his hand catches the glare of the sun and he finds a surge of strength as he charges with determination toward Troj, raising up his arm as he runs. When I see what he’s holding, a loud screech comes from my throat. Three of our men bolt after him, trying to make him stop, and Troj turns around just in time to stop the strike from being fatal.
He stares at the wound Tawk has made in his bicep, and I watch his shock instantly flip into aggression. In one swift move, he has Tawk pinned to the ground. Using both his good and injured arm to lay blow after blow into Tawk’s face. It’s bloody and it’s brutal and there’s no sign of him stopping, not until he gets pulled away by his friends.
His eyes lift up to me, and he wipes his blood-drenched hand across his nose before looking down at the mess he’s left of Tawk. His nostrils flare from all the anger that’s still inside him. He doesn’t seem proud of himself, just wild with rage.
“Tend to him.” My uncle nudges my arm with his, pointing his head toward Tawk, and I drag my eyes away from Troj as I step forward. Tawk is barely moving, his chest is rising and falling with labored breaths and his face is swollen and bruised. I stand over him, trying to imagine how it would have felt if the outcome had been different. He could have just taken Troj’s life for the sake of his pride.
“Tend to him.” My uncle repeats, this time louder. Another step forward brings with it the image of Troj with a knife in his back, blood running crimson over his skin, and his legs buckling beneath him. I wipe the tear that causes away from my cheek. Tawk manages to open one of his swollen eyes a tiny bit, but I can’t bear to make eye contact with him.
"I will tend to the man who deserves it." I look back at my uncle, before moving past Tawk to stand in front of Troj. All the tension in Troj’s face slackens with shock, his bare chest is still heaving from the assault he made on Tawk, and blood that doesn’t belong to him covers his torso and drips from his hands. I shouldn’t find it attractive. I should be running from this beautiful monster who reeks of havoc, but instead, I crave being close to him.
“Will you let me take care of you?” I ask, feeling the vicious glare of my uncle through the back of my head, and when Troj’s lips raise up in that way that makes my stomach flip, I don’t care about the consequences.
“It’s just a scratch, darlin’.” He looks down over his shoulder at the gash in his arm. On closer inspection, I see it's deep enough to need stitches.
“I’d like to help.” I pray he won’t reject me. I need to be close to him, my heart’s still beating way faster than it should be from the fear I’d felt watching Tawk strike.
“I’d like that,” he nods slowly, not giving a shit who sees the smug grin on his face. Taking my hand in his, a heat spreads over me that relaxes my entire body.
“Here,” Nyx holds out Troj’s Leather waistcoat for me to take. “I’ll let you take care of this.” He winks before shooting a hostile look at my uncle and then heading back toward the tree line with the others.
I let Troj lead me up the bank to where his bike is parked, and I get on the back without hesitating. He rides us back down the track to the clubhouse, where the music thumps loudly through the walls. The other brothers pat him on his back as he makes his way to the bar, keeping a firm grip on my hand as we pass through them.
“Troj, you're losing blood,” I remind him.
“It’s fine, these guys would crucify me if I don’t have a drink with them first.” He leans his head down so his mouth touches my ear. “Soon as we’re done, I promise I’ll let you get your hands on me,” he whispers, and I feel myself blush red.
I stand beside him awkwardly as he downs a shot that the woman from the other side of the bar serves him. One of the other outlaws offers me a drink, which I politely decline.
Troj takes back a few more shots before Prez comes over and squeezes his shoulder proudly. “Haven’s prepped a room upstairs ready for the doc to stitch you up when you’re ready.”
“I don’t need the doc,” Troj tells him.
