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Everyone was hitting me now. Through the blood and blurriness, I cataloged the damage: my lip was split open, my cheekbone throbbing, my forehead gushing red into my eyes. One of them stopped hitting me to learn in real close.

“Hold down this fucker’s arms.”

It was a barrage of flailing arms and curses. They weren’t going to get off easy—not with me.

I hooked one with my right fist, and it made contact. My knuckles cracked across his face and it hurt. So I knew it did some damage.

“Little shit!” he shrieked, falling back to clutch his nose. Music to my ears.

Despite my struggle, they had the upper hand by sheer numbers. I was cornered. The other two twisted my arms behind my back, kicking at my shins so that I would be forced to kneel. The third hovered above me as though he were about to knight me. I knew I was in for a beating that I couldn’t escape. I braced myself, prepared to take the punches. I endured worse before—I would survive. But they wouldn’t. I’d never forgive what they did to Silas. I would get my return on this. They could count on it. They better be ready.

The one who I punched was back on my left. He clamped his hands down on my neck and shoulders, rendering me immobile. He dug his nails so deeply into the flesh beneath my hairline, I knew he was drawing blood. I grit my teeth. He tried to force me to look to the ground, but I strained against him.

“How’s your face?” I growled in his direction, craning my neck to smile at him. “You needed some work done anyway.”

That earned me a swift kick to my side. I buckled, but didn’t cower. As the pain pulsed through me, I drew in a breath and locked eyes with the leader, the man who thought he could break me down. His eyes were wild with glee at my position, and he loomed over me like an executioner. He rolled up his sleeves.

“Make it count,” I snarled.

“You sure have a lot to say for someone on his knees,” he sneered, and the other men heckled at that.

“Probably used to that position,” one added, using his foot to nudge me. I tried desperately to rise to my feet and grapple him. They laughed at my attempt, shoving me back to the asphalt. Trying to take on the three of them was useless, but I’d rather go down swinging than let them belittle me.

The man who stood in front of me reared back, but stopped suddenly, fist suspended in the air. “What the hell–?”

The entire group looked down to see Silas, clutching the man’s heel. Squeezing.

“Stop,” he gasped, blood slick at his temple, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. “Stop it. Leave him out of it.”

I looked down at Silas, heart twisting painfully in my chest. Part of me wished he hadn’t spoken up. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said a word. He should’ve stayed motionless and let me take the beating. I could handle it. I was handling it. But now…

“Your business… is… with me…” Silas ground out, his jaw tight with pain.

He was trying to protect me even now.

“The fag is touching me,” Our main attacker spoke calmly. My eyes ricocheted to him.

“Hey–” the words didn’t leave my mouth fast enough.

One of them let go of my arm to rise, stepping around me like I was nothing. Then he hovered over Silas, casting a shadow across his bloodied face. My gut dropped. What else could they possibly do to him?

“Hey!” Panic surged through me. I thrashed, desperate, muscles screaming as I fought against the grip still holding me down. If I could break free—just for a second—I could shield him. I had to. Every second counted. I was almost immediately placed in a crushing headlock. My hands instantly went to gripping the arm that was syphoning my air supply.

Silas didn’t move. And I couldn’t get to him. Everything played out in front of me like slow motion.

The bastard who towered over him lifted his foot. “Lights out,” he whispered darkly.

I gasped. “Don’t–”

He smashed his foot down on Silas’s head, and I let out an ear splitting scream. With my shouting combined with Silas’s moans of pain, I am not sure how no one came to help us. The man’s foot came down again—the second time—and I struggled, I fought with every force I had, crying for some type of mercy.

Silas needed me.

I had to get to him. I had to stop this.

Silas moaned in agony, his nose broken, blood flooding his face. He was unrecognizable. The third time the man stomped down, Silas stopped crying out. He was unconscious. At least, I prayed that he was. I couldn't bear to think of the alternative. I strained desperately against my attackers, my muscles burning as I nearly forced myself back upright with both of them still clinging to me.

I saw red.