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I don't say a word to Jax. I don't grab my jacket. I'm through the garage doors and in the SUV before the screen of my phone even goes dark. I dial Savage as I peel out of the lot, the tires screaming against the asphalt. “Where the fuck is Dillon?” I growl the second he picks up.

“What happened?” That gets his fucking attention.

“Something happened. I got a frantic message from Serenity,” I growl, my heart thudding against my ribs with a violence that makes it hard to breathe. I don't care about traffic lights. I don't care about the sirens that start up behind me three blocks later. The only thing that exists is the half-mile stretch between me and my girl.

“I’m checking.” He clicks off the line. I drive like a man possessed, weaving through the morning traffic on the Strip with a precision born of pure, unadulterated terror. My mind is a chaotic loop of every worst-case scenario I’ve ever seen in this life. If he touches her—if that pathetic, delusional coward lays a single finger on her—I will tear him limb from limb. It’s not just an empty threat. It’s a promise written in the marrow of my bones.

I screech to a halt in front of the coffee shop and don’t even grab my phone. Savage can deal. I’m out of the door before the engine stops humming. The shop is quiet, a few tourists tucked into corners with laptops, the smell of roasted beans sickeningly normal. I scan the room, my eyes wild, searching for the blonde hair that has haunted my dreams for years.

I see a “restroom” sign and head straight over. I’m down that hallway in three strides. The door to the women's room is closed. I don't knock. I push straight into the cramped room.

Inside, the world narrows to a single point. Serenity is backed into the corner by the sinks, her eyes wide and wet with terror, her hands trembling as she holds her phone like a shield. And standing over her, his hand reaching out to grab her arm, is Kirk Voss. He looks smaller than he did in the photos Savage sent—pale, sweating, with a frantic, twitching energy that makes him look like a cornered rat.

"Diesel!" Serenity sobs, the sound of my name breaking the paralysis of the room.

A cold, white rage washes over me, the kind of stillness that comes right before a storm breaks. I step into the room, my shadow falling over Voss, and the air seems to flee the space.

Kirk spins around, his face draining of what little color it had. He tries to puff out his chest, tries to maintain the delusion of power he’s been feeding on for months, but his knees are literally knocking together. "You… you can't be here. This is a private conversation. Serenity and I, we have a connection. She just needs to listen⁠—"

I don't let him finish. I reach out, my hand wrapping around his throat with the speed of a striking snake. I lift him off the floor until his toes are barely skimming the tiles, his face turning a mottled purple as he fumbles at my wrist with weak, useless fingers. I slam him back against the tiled wall, the sound of his skull hitting the ceramic a dull, satisfying thud.

"Diesel, stop!" Serenity cries out, but she doesn't move toward me. She’s watching with a mixture of horror and dark, primal relief that tells me she was seconds away from a nightmare.

I lean in close, my face inches from Kirk’s. He smells like sour sweat and cheap cologne, a scent that offends every instinct I have. My voice, when I speak, is a low, vibrating growl that barely sounds human. It’s the voice of the Steel Sinners. It’s the voice of a man protecting his soul.

"You have been a very busy boy, Kirk," I whisper, the words sharp as a razor. "You like taking pictures? You like following women who don't want you? You think you have a connection? The only connection you're going to have is with the bottom of a desert hole if you ever breathe the same air as her again."

He tries to speak, a wheezing, pathetic sound, but I tighten my grip just enough to remind him that his life is currently a gift I am choosing not to take from him yet. His eyes are bulging, filled with a raw, animalistic terror that should satisfy me, but it doesn't. It’s not enough. It will never be enough for what he put her through. I slam him harder, just to hear that helpless gasp again. My blood is roaring in my ears, and there’s a dark, ugly satisfaction in watching Kirk Voss finally look as powerless as he’s always made Serenity feel.

Then the bathroom door crashes open and nearly flies off the hinges. Dillon stumbles in, blood streaming down his forehead and dripping down the front of his shirt. Christ. He looks like he just lost a cage match with a length of rebar.

“Diesel!” His voice is a thick growl, but he’s holding his head with both hands. “The fucker jumped me outside. Must’ve been hiding behind the dumpster. Caught me with something heavy.” He glares straight at Voss, pure murder in his eyes, while blood leaks down his temple like a horror movie prop.

Kirk whimpers at the sight of Dillon, which frankly, is pathetic even for him. I raise an eyebrow. “You need a minute to settle things?”

Dillon spits on the tile. “Just five with that piece of shit and a tire iron. Then I’m golden.”

I almost laugh. Serenity makes a wet, shuddery sound behind me, and my chest squeezes tight. She’s still pale, eyes glued to me, needing this to be over. I get it. She needs this nightmare finished, not dragged out. I slam Kirk against the tiles again, just for good measure. The asshole squeals, but all I see is Serenity standing there, shaking, desperate for me to end this shit.

I shift my grip and snarl in Voss’s ear, low enough that only he and I can hear, “I’m going to let my brother take care of you. It sucks to be you.”

Kirk whimpers, all pretense gone. The coward’s pissing himself. Pathetic. I turn to Dillon, keeping Voss pinned with one hand. Dillon looks like he wants to murder someone.

“He’s all yours.” I jerk my chin at the bastard in my grip. “Have fun.”

Dillon grins, teeth bloody, eyes burning with pure murder. “You know it.”

I let go, and Kirk hits the floor, scrambling backward, but there’s nowhere to go. Dillon advances, smiling like a wolf. I block Serenity’s view, keeping her in my arms, safe from the mess behind me.

“Don’t look, sweetness.” I cradle her head against my chest, shielding her from the ugly sounds echoing off the tiles. “It’s over. No one’s ever touching you again.”

“Is your friend going to kill Kirk?” She snuggles closer, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel her steady heartbeat against my chest.

“No, but Kirk is going to wish he’s dead once Dillon gets through with him,” I tell her.

She leans back and gives me a wicked smile. “Too bad.” Fuck, this woman is perfect for me.

CHAPTER TWELVE