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Breath leaves my lungs with a whoosh, grateful to be out of his firm grip.
He swaggers toward Beckett, anger radiating from his rounded shoulders.
"Who the hell are you," Trevor spits. His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers. He moves in close, his nose inches from Beckett's face.
Beckett's taller, his shoulders broader. He outweighs Trevor by what I would guess is twenty pounds. But Trevor is quick, and deadly. I study Beckett’s face. Does he look angrier and more determined than Trevor? Or am I imagining his conviction, my memory of the lingering kiss playing with my mind?
Beckett doesn't back down. He leans in, almost touching his nose to Trevor's. His jaw sets, firm with fury as he glares at Trevor. "Touch her again and you die."
Trevor laughs. The familiar, cruel sound echoes through the empty warehouse, making me cringe, the condescending laugh all too familiar to me. "She’s not your business. She belongs to me."
Beckett’s attention lowers to the bruises on my arms. His eyes flash, his hands tightening to fists. “If this is how you treat a woman who, as you say, belongs to you, then you’ve made it my business.”
I can't breathe. I want to squeeze my eyes shut tight, to go back to that closet and hide behind my suitcase. I’m too scared to watch. I force myself to stand steady, to keep my eyes open. I owe it to this man, this perfect stranger, to keep them open, to witness this stand he's taken for a girl he doesn't even know.
For… me.
Tension crackles in the air like a lightning strike. Trevor launches himself at Beckett, his fists flying through the air. Beckett dodges to the right, his movement quick and precise, a grimace of pain flashing over his face as he goes.
He jabs at Trevor's face with a right hook, but it's obvious his shoulder is almost completely shot. Trevor easily blocks the blow. Beckett’s face twists as he moves his shoulder. I remember the feel of his blood on my fingers as I pressed my hoodie against his wound.
The two men circle one another, their fists raised.
Beckett's body tunes to Trevor's every move, his instincts honed as if from years of fighting. He sidesteps another swing from Trevor and lands a hard punch to his stomach. Trevor doubles over in pain. Beckett seizes the opportunity and lands a swift uppercut to Trevor's chin, sending him reeling backward.
I'm equal parts joy and terror as I stand there watching, my back further pressing against the wall. I want to shout for the gorgeous stranger, cheer him on...
Yet part of my beaten-up heart can't help but to feel Trevor's pain. Fucked up, I know, but we were together a long time. And I just don’t like to see another human in pain.
Trevor staggers back, as if his mind is hazy from the blows. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.
Beckett holds his pose, ready to strike again but unwilling to if Trevor offers to back down. Whether from kindness or the pain that must be tearing through the wound in his shoulder, I'm not sure. Fresh blood begins as a small dot against his dark T-shirt, but quickly spreads into a large, dark patch on the fabric.
I wait, tense, begging the gods for Trevor to quit, to run from here, never to see him again.
Trevor glances at me, fury and pain wild in his gaze. Spotting the wound at Beckett's shoulder, a wicked grin creeps across his face. He lunges at the injured shoulder, nailing the blood-soaked area with a sharp jab.
Pain rides like a shockwave over Beckett's face. He doesn't back down. He takes a breath, fights through the pain, and pounces, raining down a barrage of punches that make Trevor cower and cry out in pain.
Trevor's consciousness begins to slip away as Beckett continues to pummel him. Beckett's beat him, that much is clear. Now the anger and rage come out in full force as Beckett continues to punish him.
"Stop," I cry out. "Enough."
Hearing my voice, Beckett glances up, his eyes glassy like a man in a trance. The look is terrifying, like an animal who’s lost all control. He holds Trevor by the collar, his fist pulled back to strike again.
"Enough," I whisper, pleading with Beckett to stop.
He focuses on me as he comes out of his crazed state. The energy that passed between our eyes in the alley comes back, stronger than before. He gives me a nod, releasing Trevor.
He crosses the room to me.
Trevor sits up slowly, groaning. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, then silently staggers upright and slinks toward the door, breaking into a sprint as he gets closer to freedom. He doesn't glance back as he tears out of the warehouse. A ton of emotions swirl in me, watching him leave. Relief, anger, sadness. Most of all, relief. I feel like I can breathe again.
I feel… I stare at the man standing before me, the one who just fought like his own life depended upon it… for me. I feel safe. I have so many questions for this man, wanting to know everything about what happened. Why is he here? How did he find me?
All I can manage is a whispered, “Thank you.”
“I figured I owed you one. For what you did for me. On the street.”
