Page 58

Everyone could see it. A hush fell over the crowd as Kian kept going, pummeling Fang’s face and torso, each blow landing like a sledgehammer against cement.
Fang had stopped fighting back.
He’d stopped even trying to defend himself.
His gaze slid to mine and caught, and in his eyes, I saw every ounce of remorse.
He knew. I could see it in his eyes, in the depth of agony there that had nothing to do with the pain Kian was inflicting on him right now. He knew the attack had happened that night after he’d walked out of the bar and left me alone. He knew, and he was blaming himself, letting Kian punish him for my poor choices.
“Stop,” I croaked out. “Make them stop. He’s going to kill him.”
Lacey glanced over at me; worried expression etched into her pretty features. “He has to tap out. Kian will just keep going if he doesn’t.”
Fang would never tap out. Never. I knew it instinctively. He’d rather die.
Especially if he was punishing himself.
I let go of Lacey’s hand and rushed into the ring.
“Rebel!” she yelped. “You can’t, you’ll get hurt!”
I ignored her, lunging for the two men grappling on the ground. “Stop!”
I think everyone, including me, was shocked when Kian froze, fist midair, ready to connect.
“Enough,” I choked out. “You’ve got the job. Stop.”
The crowd booed, clearly there for the bloodshed.
I dropped to my knees and traced light fingertips all over Fang’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Fang said through gritted teeth. “He was going easy on me.”
If that was Kian going easy on someone then I could barely think about what it would look like if he went all out. But since he was being such a tough guy, I let my anger roar and overtake the worry. I drew my arm back, fingers clenched into fists, and let it fly at Fang’s face.
I might have been little, but I still knew how to throw a punch. It connected solidly, the impact jolting through my arm painfully, but I ignored that, no stranger to pain. “Then that’s for trying to get yourself killed!”
I used his solid chest to push myself up and stormed away, ignoring Kian and Lacey calling my name and the crowd hooting and hollering at me, laughing and jeering. I shoved my way through the crowd, shrugging off all the pats on the back, and “Good one, girl!”
I didn’t want those. I wasn’t proud of punching Fang.
But fuck, he made me mad.
The shouts of the crowd grew dimmer as I stormed into the night, weaving through the parked cars, the lights of the fight dropping away the farther I ran.
Fang’s bike was parked on the outer edge, as far away from the action as you could get and shrouded in near complete darkness.
“Rebel.”
I froze at his voice behind me. I’d known he’d follow, but I’d hoped that by getting a head start I’d be able to lose him in the crowd. I should have known that wouldn’t be possible. He always came after me. Protected me. Once, when I’d broken a club rule, he’d refused to let anyone else punish me. My punishment had come from his hands, and in the form of a public spanking that I’d thoroughly enjoyed and followed with a delayed orgasm.
The only lesson I’d learned was to break more rules.
But this was different. He was punishing himself over something I’d done, and that made me feel like shit. The feeling had nowhere to go, except out. I lashed out, kicking at his bike, sending it toppling to the ground.
I blinked at the bike on its side, shocked at what I’d done.
I turned big eyes on him, suddenly terrified I’d pushed him too far. Bikes were everything to the guys in his club. A sacred item. They took care of them like they were babies.