Part 24 (2/2)

Chance grabs me by the arm and yanks me down the street, and we start walking fast.

”You broke his jaw?”

”Yeah,” he says, turning angry eyes on me.

”Hey, don't take it out on me.”

He looks like he's going to retort, fire something nasty back, but he doesn't. Instead, he just rubs his knuckles once a they're bruised a and then wraps an arm around me and pulls me with him as he walks quickly.

”We need to get back onto a busy street.”

”Why?”

”No doubt those s.h.i.+ts have friends and phones.”

Chapter Twenty Seven.

I'm angry as f.u.c.k.

My hand hurts, and now I'm looking over my shoulder. There's no worse feeling. Just because I beat up two punks doesn't mean that it's the end of it.

They'll be dialing their friends, looking for some gang payback.

It's always like that with these kinds of guys. Can't win a fight two-on-one? Then they go ten-on-one.

And no matter how good of a fighter I am, the odds of winning decrease drastically with each new opponent you add.

Meanwhile, Ca.s.sie is busy asking me if I had to break the guy's jaw.

”Couldn't you have just hit him softer?”

It's not like breaking his jaw was my intent. I just f.u.c.king hit him.

I felt the hinge dislodge right when my fist impacted him. It was subtle, just a click, not far enough for all the nerves to tear, for him to pa.s.s out from blinding pain.

But enough that he could feel it, couldn't talk properly.

Enough that he'll have a h.e.l.l of a time eating anything solid for weeks, if not months.

I don't feel a shred of remorse. If you step to someone, you'd better be f.u.c.king ready to take all he can give you.

n.o.body threatens what's mine. Those two f.u.c.kers got off easy.

”Chance, will you slow down? I can't walk this fast. What are you so mad about now anyway? It's over.”

And of course she doesn't understand why I'm angry.

But the strength of my anger surprises even me. Just the thought of her being threatened, just the thought of her being hurt in some way...

I feel it in my bones... rage.

I want to protect her. I want to keep her safe. And that was a close call. Too f.u.c.king close. I should have noticed them following us.

My heart is pumping crazy fast, and I would be lying if I said that a part of me wasn't thrilled. I didn't enjoy it, but it brings into sharp focus just how much I enjoy fighting.

It's not the violence of it, but it's the... primal compet.i.tion. There's a lot of strategy to fighting, a lot of nuance, a lot of reading your opponent.

Those two guys were easy, untrained and drunk, and still it left adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I... I miss training. I miss having an opponent to compete against.

When my mother said I was good at so much more than fighting, she didn't realize that even if that was true, nothing else but fighting can get my heart going like this.

Fighting, and Ca.s.sie.

”Hey,” I say, turning to her. ”You okay?”

”Of course I'm okay. I'm fine. Just drunk boys.”

She tries to force the words out too quickly. She's lying. She is a little shaken. I pull her in to my side, kiss her by her ear.

The thought that I just protected my little sister makes me laugh. I think about saying it, but our family status seems to bug her more than it bugs me. It's just a f.u.c.king technicality, I don't see what the big deal is.

”Will he really have to eat through a straw for months?”

”I don't know. Maybe,” I say.

”You took them down quick.”

”They were drunk and slow. Two-on-one is never a position you want to find yourself in. In a fight, I mean.”

”Think our parents will be p.i.s.sed we're coming home so late?” she asks.

”No doubt your father will be. He'll probably call you by your full name.”

”Ca.s.sie Shannon,” she says, mocking him, and I laugh. She's got his facial expression down pat.

”I can't believe my mother married your father.”

”I can't believe your father married my mother. They seem totally wrong for each other, don't they?”

I nod. ”They do.”

”They'll probably get divorced, won't they?”