Page 97 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

My voice stayed low.

All three turned. Surprise flickered in Elena's eyes, then anger lit up. The young guy still had her.

He sized up my suit, the fact my hands were empty. Alcohol handed him courage he didn't deserve.

"Get the fuck outta here, old man."

Elena's gaze snapped to my face, like she was afraid those words would make the river run red.

The man grinned and tightened his fingers.

I stepped in, caught his thumb, and bent it out. The laugh turned into a scream. I ripped his hand off Elena and shoved him aside.

The second guy swung.

I tilted away and drove a fist into his ribs, then grabbed the back of his neck and stopped his face inches from a rotten piling.

"Move again, and you'll sober up at the bottom of the river."

The third froze.

"Pick them up. Now. Get the hell out."

He hauled the others. The first guy clutched his wrist and spat a curse. I looked at him once, and he swallowed the rest.

When their footsteps died off, I turned to Elena.

Her wrist was red. My gut felt like someone had jammed a piece of hot iron into it.

"Let me see."

I reached for her. She flinched back half a step.

That tiny distance hit harder than any insult.

My hand stopped in midair. I drew it back slowly. "Did they hurt you?"

"No." She rubbed her wrist. "You got here fast."

"I was nearby."

"Because you never really left."

"I left."

She lifted a brow.

"And came back," I admitted.

"So you didn't listen to a word I said."

"I heard every word."

"That makes it worse."

"It does."

The anger she'd been ready to throw at me got jammed up by that one syllable. After a few seconds, she looked toward where they'd gone.