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Horror sweeps through me when he grabs a fistful of her hair and drags her onto his bike.

“Let her go!” I hurry toward them, instinct driving me.

The motorcyclist stops in the middle of the road. He struggles with Bree, who’s fighting back.

Pinning her to his lap, he fishes out something from inside his jacket. The metallic flash of the barrel stops me in my tracks.

A gun pointed straight at me.

I freeze as time stalls into fragments.

A booming sound ricochets. Followed by shrill screeches. The smell of gunpowder and the flash of fire.

I’m going to die.

Someone plows into me from the side, knocking me to the ground.

Pain explodes across my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. Dots appear in my vision.

“You okay?” A rough voice currently promises murder.

A dark silhouette appears above me. Thundering eyes glint with unholy light. Lips peeled back in a snarl.

Rex sweeps his hand down my body as if checking for wounds.

“Get B-Bree,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”

His eyes widen, like he’s shocked at my mention of her.

A vein pulses in his temple. He nods.

Rex hauls himself off me and sprints toward the motorcyclist. The asshole has Bree immobile on his lap. He revs his engine, clearly seconds away from fleeing.

But he’s not fast enough.

Rex reaches him before I can blink and tackles him to the ground. Bree scurries away, and Rhys and other locals form a protective circle around her.

I barely notice.

Because my attention is stolen by the vicious man pinning the motorcyclist under him. The men grapple for the gun, shots firing into the air. People scream and dive for cover.

“Who sent you?” Rex roars.

He twists the man’s wrist. The gun clatters to the ground. Then he follows with a flurry of hits.

Jabs to the abdomen. Hooks to the face.

The heavy smacking sounds turning wet.

Then I notice the telltale crimson coating his hands.

“Did someone send you?”

Blood splatters onto his white shirt, soaking it in a matter of seconds. It streaks across his cheeks and eyebrows, which frame the most unhinged eyes.

His fists pummel the man, each strike harder than the last.

The man’s barely moving as blood pools on the ground.