But as I stood guard over the red-haired cook who had shown me nothing but kindness, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years.
I felt like I'd found something worth fighting for.
The fight died down around us, but I remained crouched over Rooster's body, my body throbbing with adrenaline and my heart still racing with the lingering ferocity.
Blood—not mine—had dried under my fingernails, and the taste of that man's fear lingered in my mouth.
Rooster groaned beneath me, his eyes fluttering open then squeezing shut against the pain. A dark bruise was already forming where the bat had connected with his temple, the skin split and bleeding sluggishly.
"Kid?" he mumbled, trying to focus on my face. "You okay?"
Typical. He was the one bleeding from a head wound, and he was asking if I was alright.
I nodded quickly, my eyes never leaving his face. The yard around us was a battleground of groaning bodies and cursing bikers. Several of the attackers lay motionless on the ground while others were being zip-tied by club members. The scent of blood, gunpowder, and adrenaline hung heavy in the air.
The clubhouse door swung open, and a lean man with short brown hair stepped out, carrying what looked like a medical bag. Unlike the others, he wore no leather vest, just a rumpled button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Doctor. The word popped into my head immediately.
"I need to check injuries!" he called out, his voice crisp with authority. "Priority to anyone bleeding or unconscious!"
His eyes swept the yard, assessing the situation with clinical detachment. Several bikers pointed toward us. The doctor started in our direction, and I felt my muscles tense, ready to defend Rooster if necessary.
"It's okay," Rooster whispered, reading my posture. "That's Henry. He's Gunner's mate. Doc's good people."
I wasn't convinced. Everyone was dangerous until proven otherwise. That's how I'd survived this long.
But Rooster needed help. The blood from his head wound was soaking into his beard, staining the red hair an even darker crimson. My protective instincts warred with my ingrained distrust of strangers.
Rooster's need won.
I rose to my feet in one fluid motion and approached the doctor, who stopped short, eyeing me warily. Smart man. I probably looked feral, wild-eyed and blood-spattered. Without speaking, I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward Rooster, my intention clear.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming," he said, allowing himself to be led. "Is that Rooster down? How bad is it?"
I didn't answer, just pulled him faster.
When we reached Rooster, the doctor—Henry—immediately knelt beside him, setting down his bag and pulling out a penlight. I hovered nearby, muscles tense, ready to intervene if he caused Rooster any pain.
"Pupils equal and reactive," Henry muttered, shining the light into Rooster's eyes. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three," Rooster answered, trying to sit up. "I'm fine, Doc. Just a love tap."
"You're not fine," Henry countered, pushing him gently back down. "That's a nasty concussion at minimum. You need a CT scan to rule out a skull fracture or intracranial bleeding."
Rooster waved him off. "No hospitals. You know the drill."
"At least let me clean and stitch that cut," Henry insisted, already pulling supplies from his bag. "And you're staying under observation tonight. No arguments."
I watched the exchange with growing frustration. Rooster clearly needed more help than he was willing to accept. Stubborn man. I found myself wondering if all bear shifters were this hardheaded or if it was just him.
My attention snapped to movement behind us—the bearded leader, Butch, was approaching, his massive form silhouetted against the security lights. Instinctively, I shifted position, moving behind Rooster where I felt marginally safer.
"Report," Butch said, his voice gruff as he surveyed the damage to his club member.
Henry answered without looking up from his work cleaning Rooster's wound. "Concussion. Laceration. Hardheaded idiot refusing proper medical care. The usual."
Butch grunted, then turned his attention to me. I tensed under his scrutiny, feeling exposed despite Rooster's presence between us.
