Daphne ignores me, and Cane and Meathands exchange an amused glance.
Meathands waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. This has nothin’ to do with you.”
Rage sparks in my blood, a welcome sensation to clear my mind. I’ve never had much of an opinion about Meathands. He’s just a dummy doing his job like the rest of us, but hearing him call her sweetheart…
I’d like to rip his tongue from his mouth.
She emits a low growl. “I think it does.”
Cane laughs. Actuallylaughsat my feral little love. “Fine, it’ll be one on one, then.” He nods to his companion. “Hold her back. She can watch her loverboy bleed.”
With that, the two charge forward, so much faster than I expect. In a flash, Cane is before me, swinging his weapon straight for my face. My mind is on Daphne’s safety, but all I can do is react to my first threat. I dodge to the side and intercept the strike of the cane with my palm. Pain radiates across my hand, through my wrist, and up my arm. My vision nearly goes black, but I focus on my anger, gritting my teeth as I close my fingers around the lacquered wood and pull with all my might.
My reaction catches Cane off guard, and his weapon slips from his fingers. I shift it to my non-dominant hand—the one that isn’t obliterated with pain—and swing it into the side of his stunned face. His head whips to the side as it makes contact, and he falls to his back at once. I pivot to the side, my eyes seeking Meathands.
He looks just as shocked as Cane was, but I spare him only a meager glance. My attention shifts to Daphne, whom he clutches to his chest. One arm is pressed across her shoulders while the other covers her mouth. She squirms in his grip, snarling against his palm.
I lift the cane and point it at him. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
His expression flashes with uncertainty, then darkens as I hear Cane rise clumsily to his feet behind me. “Our two minutes ain’t over,” Meathands says.
“Bastard,” Cane mutters under his breath. He stumbles into my periphery, cradling the side of his face. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”
“Let her go, you cunty prick,” I growl through my teeth, “or I’ll ram this through your eye socket.”
Meathands snorts a laugh. “Such big words, but I’m bigger. Let’s see how you fare against me. You take the girl.” He thrusts Daphne to the side toward Cane, his gaze locked on me.
Cane extends a hand, ready to pull her to him…
But Daphne clings to Meathands’ palm.
With both fists encircling his wide wrist, she opens her mouth…
And clamps down hard below his thumb.
Meathands cries out as she sinks her teeth into his palm, then makes a strangled sound as she tears her mouth away, ripping a chunk of flesh with it. Cane goes still, his beady eyes bulging at Daphne as she darts away with graceful ease. Meathands’ mouth gapes wider as he stares down at his ruined hand.
“She bit me,” he says, voice panicked. “She bit my fucking hand off. She…she really bit me.”
My muscles are coiled like a spring, my fist tightening around the cane as I anticipate Meathands’ retaliation. One move and I’ll shove this stick straight through his?—
With a sob, he falls to his knees, weeping as he cradles his hand.
I’m so shocked, my mind goes blank. All I can do is stare as his tough demeanor shrinks.
“No, no, no. Not my hand.” He stares up at us with tear-filled eyes. “I have two hundred snowman scarves to knit by winter solstice. Two hundred. This was supposed to be my big break!”
Daphne spits a chunk of mangled flesh at the ground before him. “You’re fae,” she says, her voice firm. “You’ll heal. Maybe stop beating people in alleyways in the meantime.”
“I was following orders.”
“No,” Daphne says, “you were following spare change, from what it sounds like.”
“You didn’t have to bite my hand. I was going to be gentle with him. Just a few punches, is all.”
She shrugs. “You said there were no rules. Now stop taking odd jobs and leave Monty the fuck alone.”
Cane takes a step to the side, but at Daphne’s growl, he freezes. Slowly, he holds up his hands and tilts his head to something nearby. She gives him a nod, and he retrieves Meathands’ scarf. Then, crouching beside him, he gives a gentle pat to his comrade’s shoulder and hands over the scarf. “For your wound.”
