Page 4 of Blood & Throttle

I step in close, slowly and deliberately, letting the tension stretch.

My grip tightens around Jace’s throat, feeling the way his pulse kicks against my palm. His hands claw at my wrist, but he’s not getting free. My voice drops lower, lethal.

"You got something to say about her, Jace?" I tilt my head, watching him like prey. "Go on. Say it. Give me a fucking reason to put you in the ground."

His hands flex against my wrist, testing for weakness. There isn’t any.

"Fuck—" he tries to grit out, but he can’t fully get the words out.

I press harder.

"You touch her," I murmur, tightening my grip, "you even look at her the wrong way again, and those pit rats will be scraping your corpse off the track till sunrise."

His face darkens, fury flashing behind his bloodshot eyes. But he knows. I’ve got a body count that makes men hesitate. Jace isn't stupid.

I release him with a shove, and he stumbles, coughing, and rubbing at his throat like he wants to say something.

But he doesn’t.

Fucking pussy.

Instead, he spits at my feet and stalks off. I don’t even watch him go. My eyes are locked on her. The girl I just fucking claimed in front of every piece of shit in this pit.

She’s staring at me now, arms crossed, defiant as ever. Bitch should be thanking me. She has no idea what the hell I just saved her ass from. But instead, she just lifts her chin, locking her dark unreadable eyes with mine, then turns and walks away.

No reaction. No fucking hesitation.

Just pure, silent defiance.

Her stride is steady, shoulders squared, like she didn’t just have every man in this pit marking her for death. Like she isn’t walking straight into a grave she doesn’t see coming.

I watch her go, something sharp and unwanted curling in my chest.

She doesn’t fucking belong here.

She’s not built for this world, not hardened by it, not yet, and yet she walks like she is, like she belongs. Every man in this pit is debating whether to kill her, claim her, or use her until there’s nothing left, and this bitch doesn’t give a fuck about any of it.

She’s a stray.

Alone, untouched and unbroken.

A wild thing that hasn’t been caught yet, but that won’t last long.

I roll the thought around in my head, letting it settle.

Little Stray.

Yeah. It fucking suits her.

Because without me?

She won’t last the night.

And for some reason, that pisses me the fuck off.

One

Sienna