His four friends rush Danny all at once. The Savage Riders surge forward. Rampage is shouting something, but I can't hear it over the sudden roar of violence. Bodies collide. Fists fly. Someone crashes into the bar, bottles shattering.
I drop my mop and run.
Not toward the exit, that's where the fight is spilling, blocking the main door. My instincts scream at me to get small, hidden, get away from the violence erupting around me. I spot the storage room and sprint for it.
Behind me, I hear the meaty thud of fists hitting flesh. Grunts of pain. The crash of something heavy, a chair maybe, hitting the concrete. Yelling. Someone's cursing, rapid-fire and vicious.
I reach the storage room and throw myself inside, slamming the door behind me. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely turn the lock. The sound of fighting is muffled but still there—shouts, impacts, the terrible symphony of men hurting each other.
I press my back against the wall and sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. This is my fault. That man came back because of me. Because Danny defended me.
The walls vibrate with a particularly heavy impact. Someone slams against the storage room door, and I bite back a scream, scrambling further into the corner. But whoever it was moves away. The fight continues.
I can pick out Danny's voice through the door. Not words, just the deep rumble of it. A roar of pure rage that makes my blood run cold. He's not holding back now. Not like he did in the ring where there are rules and refs. This is something primal. Uncontrolled.
This is the man who went to prison for ten years.
More crashes. The sound of someone hitting the floor hard. Beast's voice cutting through the chaos: "Stay down, asshole!"
How long does a fight like this last? Minutes? Hours? I have no concept of time anymore. Just the pounding of my heart andthe sounds of violence and the knowledge that this is happening because of me.
The warehouse goes quiet.
Not silent. I can hear heavy breathing, low voices, but the sounds of fighting have stopped. I stay frozen in my corner. Don't move. Don't make a sound. Just wait.
Footsteps approach the storage room. Heavy boots. Getting closer.
A knock on the door.
"Joanna." Danny's voice. Rough and strained but unmistakably his. "It's me. It's safe."
I don't move. I can’t make my body work.
"Joanna, please." A pause. "I know you're scared. But it's over. They're gone."
My hands are shaking as I reach for the lock. Turn it. The door opens slowly and Danny's there, filling the doorway.
He looks like something out of a nightmare.
Blood on his knuckles. Fresh blood, still dripping. More blood on his chest, his face. A cut above the one I'd just bandaged earlier. His eyes are wild, pupils blown, chest heaving.
But when he sees me curled up in the corner, something in his expression breaks.
"Jesus, Joanna." He stays in the doorway, doesn't come closer. Like he knows he looks terrifying right now. Like he's trying not to scare me more than I already am. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
"Are you—" My voice cracks. "Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm fine. Are you okay?"
I nod. Not sure if it's true but I nod anyway.
"The others?"
"Rampage has a busted lip. One of the Riders took a hit but he's good. The cleaners stayed out of it." He wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "The guys who came in… They're not going to be a problem anymore."
"Did you—" I can't finish the question.
"Kill them? No. But they won't be walking right for a while." His jaw clenches. "They won't come near you again. Ever."
