I was about to charge forward, but a tall figure moved faster.
Chapter Thirteen
Kayden
The man burst from the shadows, beating me by a second.
Just one second.
But it was enough to freeze me in place.
His fist slammed into the bastard's face. The crack of bone echoed through the night, sharp and clean. The guy screamed, hands flying to his nose as blood spurted between his fingers.
"Get lost." The man's voice was lazy, laced with casual menace.
The other drunks hesitated, alcohol dulling their reflexes. They exchanged glances, actually considering pushing back, cursing as they lunged forward.
The man just laughed—cold and contemptuous.
Sidestep. Dodged the first punch. Elbow strike—the second guy dropped, clutching his temple. The third charged in and caught a knee to the gut, crumpling to his knees, dry heaving.
The whole thing flowed like water, almost showing off, like he couldn't care less about any of them.
The bastards finally got scared, stumbling away clutching their wounds. One of them was still muttering "fucking bitch" and "we'll get you" under his breath.
I stood in the shadows, fingers curling tighter.
Remember their faces.
Every single one.
Tomorrow, Evan would handle it.
Anyone who dared curse at her...
My wolf bared its fangs deep inside.
The man shook out his hand and turned around. I finally saw his face.
Lucas.
Of course it was him.
"You okay?" Lucas asked Layla, the concern in his voice tightening something in my chest.
Layla leaned against the wall, pale as death. Her body trembled slightly, breathing sharp and broken, like a small animal just escaped from a hunter's trap.
But when she saw Lucas, some of that terror faded.
"Thank... thank you." Her voice shook, one hand braced against the wall, the other...
The other resting on Lucas's outstretched arm.
That gesture stabbed through my eyes.
She was holding onto him.
Trusting. Natural. Like he was her safe harbor.
