I spin around. Danny stands just feet away, his face a mess of healing bruises and cuts—Ryker's handiwork. But there's something different in his eyes tonight. Something beyond obsession. Something broken and dangerous.
"Danny." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You need to leave. Now."
He laughs, the sound hollow and wrong. "Or what? Your pet gorilla will beat me up again?" He takes a step closer. "He's not here now, is he?"
I back up, my spine hitting the car. "Ryker will be out any second."
"Then I'll make this quick." His hand comes up, something metallic glinting in the dim light. A knife. Small but deadly looking.
Terror surges through me, adrenaline making everything sharp and clear. "What are you doing?" I whisper, eyes fixed on the blade.
"If I can't have you," he says, voice eerily calm, "no one will. Especially not him."
He lunges forward. I scream and dodge sideways, the knife slicing air where I just stood. My purse drops, contents scattering across the pavement.
"Danny, stop!" I shout, desperate to reason with him, to buy time. "This isn't you!"
"You don't know me," he snarls, advancing again. "You never gave me a chance to show you who I really am."
I back away, trying to keep distance between us. My heel catches on something—a loose brick or bottle—and I stumble. It's all the opening he needs. He's on me in an instant, one hand grabbing my wrist, the knife coming up toward my face.
"I'm going to make sure he never wants to look at you again," Danny hisses, the blade inches from my cheek.
The back door of the bar slams open with such force it rebounds off the wall.
"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"
The roar is animalistic, barely human. Ryker charges across the alley like a freight train, covering the distance in seconds. Danny barely has time to turn before Ryker's fist connects with his face. The knife clatters to the ground as Danny staggers backward.
But Ryker isn't done. Not even close.
He grabs Danny by the throat, lifting him off his feet like he weighs nothing. Slams him against the brick wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.
"I warned you," Ryker growls, each word punctuated with a blow. "Told you to stay away from her." Punch. "Told you what would happen." Punch.
Danny's face is a bloody mess, but Ryker is beyond reason, beyond control. This isn't the calculated violence of the MMA fighter. This is primal. Protective. A beast defending his mate.
"You pulled a knife on her," Ryker snarls, delivering another crushing blow. "Were going to cut her. Scar her." His voice drops to something terrible and cold. "After you forced that kiss on her. Touched these perfect lips that belong to ME."
The possessiveness in those words should shock me, should scare me. Instead, they make me feel impossibly precious.
Danny's barely conscious now, held upright only by Ryker's grip on his shirt. Blood pours from his nose, his split lip, a gash above his eye.
"Ryker," I finally find my voice. "Ryker, stop. You'll kill him."
For a moment, I think he doesn't hear me. Or worse, doesn't care. But then his head turns slightly, those storm-gray eyes finding mine.
"Please," I whisper. "He's not worth it. I need you. Not in jail."
Something shifts in his expression. The feral rage doesn't disappear, but it recedes enough for reason to penetrate. With a final snarl, he releases Danny, who crumples to the ground like a broken doll.
"If you ever come near her again," Ryker says, voice deadly calm now, "they won't find enough pieces to identify the body. Understand?"
Danny manages a weak nod, consciousness fading.
Ryker turns to me then, his expression transforming instantly from murderous to concerned. "Are you hurt?" His hands cup my face, surprisingly gentle for someone who just nearly beat a man to death.
I shake my head, trembling now as shock sets in. "No. You got here in time."
