And I do.
I put a hand on his chest, flat and firm. “Nathan,” I say quietly. “Don’t.”
He freezes, confused. His hand slightly tightens against my side. “I’m sorry,” he starts. “I thought?—”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
The words split the air like lightning.
I whip around and Damian is there. Half in shadow, half in moonlight, fists clenched at his sides, chest rising like he’s just sprinted here. His voice is low and guttural, barely human. The kind of sound that doesn’t come from your throat—it comes from something deeper, darker. Something territorial and barely leashed.
Nathan’s hands go up like he’s just been caught stealing.
“Damian—” I start, stepping forward, but it’s too late.
He’s already moving.
And he’s not walking.
He’s charging.
Chapter Ten
DAMIAN
There she is.
I spot her halfway down the boardwalk, walking beside some guy I don’t recognize. Her hair’s windblown, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Teary. Like she cried the whole time she was gone. Who the fuck is that guy? Does she know him? Or is it someone Clay knows? Did he find us? I break into a run. If he hurts her… If he touches her…
The guy tilts his head down and looks at her like she owns his heart. I know that look. And it makes me fucking sick.
They stop just outside the bakery. She looks ready to peel off, head back inside. But then his hand catches her wrist. He leans in. Closer. Too close.
Then he goes in for it.
To kiss her.
And all I see is red.
She’s been gone for a few goddamn hours and this is what happens?
This is what happens?
My vision tunnels. My fists clench so tight I feel my own pulse in my palms.
I’m going to rip his fucking head off.
Then I see her move.
She stops him. A clear no. Hand on his chest, voice low but firm. It’s a flicker of warmth in my otherwise frozen veins.
But it’s not enough.
Not nearly fucking enough.
I’m still ripping his head off. Because he’s still touching her.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I snarl, and the words cut out of me before I even realize I’ve moved.
