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“So move to the fucking side and let us pass,” I repeat, knowing I can’t move forward or back. They have me locked in, and Storm’s getting more agitated and warns them with a vicious bark.
“Go,” the one facing me moves his body sideways, letting me pass.
I’m not an idiot, and instead. I step aside so that Storm is between us, blocking any attempt the guy might make to grab me.
Abruptly, I feel the tug in my hair. With a lightning-quick motion, Storm springs into action, a blur of fur and fangs. His powerful jaws clamp down on the arm of the man who dared put his hand on me. He recoils with a howl of pain. The other man, taken aback by the unexpected ferocity, hesitates for a moment.
Storm, now fully engaged, moves with calculated precision. He circles the men, his eyes gleaming with an unwavering determination to protect me. The injured man, nursing his wounded arm, attempts to regain control of the situation, but Storm’s menacing posture and bared teeth leave little room for intimidation.
Suddenly, the back door swings open, Callum and Asher are first to exit, and they dive straight for us. Jagger and Haze follow, and both step on either side of me, protectively tugging me between them.
“What the fuck?” With a swift and decisive action, Callum immediately steps in front to shield me, putting himself between me and the threat while Asher moves to Storm’s side.
“They tried to attack me, but Storm handled it well,” I explain.
“I saw you two in the audience, by the bar, earlier,” Jagger’s voice is more than just a tone deeper and severe. His eyes are burning with rage and gleaming with a predatory sharpness that slices through the surrounding atmosphere. “Looked like two mingers looking for trouble.”
“Did any of them touch you?” Haze isn’t asking, he’s demanding a reply. The look on his face is a chilling paradox of calm and intensity.
The four men now stand protectively between me and danger, and I feel safe in the heart of a nest of monsters.
“Yes. One of them did. Not sure which one. It was so quick because Storm was on them. I’m guessing it’s the one holding his arm.”
“Good boy,” Asher praises Storm, and I grab hold of the leash and pull my dog back because whatever is about to erupt here, I don’t want him to be part of it. Some authorities are quick to put the canine down if it attacks a person, regardless of whether it is protecting its owner. I don’t want to fall into that pitfall regardless.
“You dared lay a hand on what’s ours,” Haze’s voice is as dark as this alley. The icy calm in his tone is like a controlled weapon, resonating with a quiet power that cuts through the air.
Callum flicks his lit fag at one of the men’s chests. He remains quiet, but his eyes, usually expressive, transform into a cold, calculating gaze that is devoid of emotion or empathy. His stare doesn’t leave the two men they’ve now surrounded.
There's an aura of lethal confidence in my men’s demeanor, although strange to refer to all four as mine. They sure are claiming me right now as theirs. A self-assuredness emanates from the core of their being.
Right now, I’m theirs, and these two dickheads tried to harm me.
“It’s not how you think, man,” one of the men nervously says, realizing they’re completely outnumbered. “She left us a message to meet us back here.”
“Bullocks!” Asher yells angrily. Usually warm and expressive, his eyes now bear a steely glint, reflecting an unwavering focus of predatory sharpness.
“It’s true!” One of them insists, his eyes open wide as if he believes his pal’s bullshit.
A chuckle escapes me as I stand slightly away, knowing even if I had an ounce of remorse for what I know will happen to these two men, I wouldn’t give it to them.
What if I didn’t have Storm with me or have these four men to come out and help me?
I don’t even want to go there with that thought.
“Luv, go inside and order me a pint,” Jagger suggests. His voice, a notch softer, but unwavering in his stance facing the men.
“Look at the white T-shirt on the ugly prick. The design,” I clarify. “Before you destroy them, I need to know how and where he got it. There are only six people in this world who have seen it on me, and the four of you are part of that mini-group.”
“Fuck,” I hear one of the Brits sigh heavily, and I think it came from Jagger.
Callum grabs the man by the scruff of his neck, “He’ll be screaming like a canary, siren. Go inside; we’ll take care of it, love.”
“That’ssinging. Singing like a canary, you dumb fuck,” the greasy collared one says with an evil smile on his face.
Suddenly, a swift, unanticipated fist lands on the man’s jaw, causing him to stagger backward.
“Screaming, you minging twat. I’ll have you fucking screaming when I’m done with you.”
