She lunges, fist swinging wildly.
I dodge, but before I can step back, she grabs a handful of my hair and yanks hard.
Reflex takes over, and I grab her wrist with both hands, trying to pry her fingers loose, but she’s got a solid grip.She uses the leverage to slam me sideways into the lockers.My shoulder hits metal with a crash that echoes through the room.
She comes at me again, claws aimed like daggers at my face.Typical cat fight.Strictly amateur hour.I almost feel bad when I plant my feet and shove her backward so hard she stumbles and nearly goes down.
“Lucia, stop it!”Rosa’s voice cuts through, but she doesn’t move to help.
Lucia ignores her.She charges, both hands reaching for me.
I sidestep and she crashes into the lockers.The metal rattles.She spins around, breathing hard, raining down obscenities.
“Go get Jagger!”Rosa yells to Mercedes.
Lucia rushes me again, screaming something incoherent.I catch her by the shoulders and use her own momentum to spin her around.One hand on her shoulder blade, the other on her elbow, I guide her past me and shove her toward the bench.
She grabs a hairdryer off the counter, arm cocked to swing.I brace?—
The doors burst open.
Jagger storms in, fury written all over him, Mercedes and another woman right behind.Mercedes lunges, wrestling the hairdryer from Lucia’s grip.
Jagger’s eyes lock on Lucia, and I have just enough time to grab my bag before he seizes my arm and hauls me through the doors.
Seventeen
Jagger
The gym floor blurs past—faces turning, conversations dying mid-word.Nobody stops us.Nobody dares.
The parking lot hits like a wall of heat.
I don't release her until we reach the bikes."You're riding with me," I say.
She doesn't argue.Just nods once, sharp, and climbs onto the Ducati behind me.
I feel her hands settle on my waist as I fire up the engine.The bike roars to life beneath us, and I pull out into the street without checking mirrors.
Rain threatens in the distance—dark clouds building on the horizon.The wind picks up as we cut through the Quarter, and her grip tightens around my ribs like she's holding on to something solid in a world that won't stop shifting.
By the time we reach her apartment, my jaw aches from clenching.
When we enter, she heads straight for the bathroom, her voice tight."Shower," she says over her shoulder."We still need to rinse off."
I trail after her and wait until she has the shower running and the light on before I risk checking her over properly.
"Let me see."
She turns to face me, arms crossed over her stomach.There's a red mark blooming on her cheekbone.
"I'm fine."
"Let me see," I repeat, voice flat.
She turns, shows me a bruise forming on her shoulder.
"That's it?"
