Page 4

"Boys." My voice cuts through the alley. "That's no way to treat a lady."

O’Brian's head snaps toward me. "Tine? This ain't your business. Walk away."

Tine. If only they knew the truth. Would they be afraid? Probably not. The name Ifrinn seems to have died with my parents and my and my brothers’ disappearance. But soon, they will be afraid. That I promise.

I crack my neck, stepping closer. The familiar rush of adrenaline floods my system, the same feeling I get before a fight. But this is different. This isn't about gathering intel or maintaining cover. This is about her.

"See, that's where you're wrong." Another step. My fingers twitch, ready to strike. "I'm making it my business."

Lucy bites down on O’Brian's hand. He yelps, releasing her mouth. She shoves him hard and tries to run, but Connor is there to stop her as Jonny and another goon, Dillon, I think his name is, move to flank me.

“Fucking bitch. You’ll pay for that,” Danny says, pulling out his knife.

My lips curl into a cold smile. "Last chance to walk away."

Jonny and Dillon glance at each other and laugh. “Yeah, right.”

That’s when I make my move, surprising them with my speed as I get past them and to O’Brian as he slices the knife through the air.

Lucy cries out, but I don’t have time to find out whether she’s been cut. I have to move fast. I surge forward as O’Brian draws his knife back again. My cover, my mission, my brothers’ warnings, they all fade beneath a red haze of fury. My elbow cracks against his temple and he drops like a stone.

Dillon swings wild, sloppy, untrained. I duck under his fist and ram my knee into his gut. He doubles over with a wheeze. To make sure he stays down, I kick him in the nuts and then the face.

"Get him!" Johnny yells out.

“You’re fucking dead, Tine,” Connor says, standing back, waiting, watching. He knows I’ll kick his crew’s ass and then he expects to have a turn at me.

My body moves on pure instinct now, falling into the lethal dance I’ve been training for since the day the Keans killed my parents ten years ago. Block, strike, pivot. Each movement is precise, calculated.

O’Brian drags himself off the ground, sneering at me. Blood sprays as my fist connects with his nose. He staggers back, cursing. Johnny comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest. Mistake. I drive my head back into his face, feeling cartilage crunch. Maybe even a few teeth crack. His grip loosens, and I turn. Yep, he’s missing a few teeth. I give him another blow and he falls to his knees.

Lucy's eyes are wide, fixed on the violence unfolding before her. I want to tell her to run, but Connor is blocking her path.

O'Brian recovers his knife and charges again. I catch his wrist, twist until something pops. The knife clatters to the pavement. His scream echoes off brick walls as I drive my knee into his sternum. Years of rage and loss fuel each strike. These men serve the family who murdered my parents, destroyed my life.

Connor pulls a gun. Time slows. My heart pounds. Sweat trickles down my spine. I’m fast, but not faster than a bullet. One wrong move now means death.

“Seriously?” I give him a cocky smile. “You’re the best street fighter around. You need a gun for little ole me?”

His jaw tightens. “You’ve got a big mouth.”

“I’m just trying to prove myself. I’m a good fighter. I can make your crew a shit-ton of money.” Maybe he’ll accept this lunatic idea that this is an audition.

“You can go fuck yourself.”

Lucy launches herself off the wall, hitting Connor. The gun goes off, but luckily, his aim shifts and doesn’t hit me. I don’t have time to call her out on her idiocy. I move before Connor can recover. Two quick steps, and my hand shoots out to grab the gun's barrel. Push up, twist. A second shot cracks overhead as I wrench the weapon from his grip.

I like using my fists, but I’m no stranger to the feel of a gun in my hand. For a heartbeat, I'm tempted to use it. Several pulls of the trigger, and I'd have four fewer enemies to worry about.

But Lucy's watching. And bodies with bullet wounds raise too many questions.

I eject the magazine, clear the chamber. The pieces clatter across the alley as I use the gun against Connor’s temple. He staggers back.

O’Brian moans from where he lies curled around his broken body. The others won't be getting up anytime soon, either. Good.

I turn to Lucy, who stands frozen. Blood trickles from her arm. It looks like O’Brian got a piece of her, after all. The sight makes my hands itch to finish what I started with these bastards.

"You okay?" I keep my voice steady, though adrenaline still courses through my veins.