Page 58 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Luca

Nix stood mid-conversation, completely ignoring his new manager. He looked across the large room of partygoers, face serious, before he lightly punched my shoulder and sprinted across the room. I was on his heels. No questions asked.

Livie stood at the edge of one of the adjoining rooms and ushered us through to an absolute shit show.

A man at the bar was splattered in blood — his shirt had blossoms of red, growing and soaking on his chest. But his face was an absolute picture.

She’d broken his nose.

My chest warmed with pride, until I could see past the blood to who exactly it was she had punched.

Pedro Velazco.

My grin only stalled when I saw who was sitting at the bar beside him. In a dress that I knew her father would disapprove of. Fia Bacque.

But she was smirking, looking pretty pleased with herself.

A handful of people had started to gather around the commotion, glancing at each other as if they couldn’t quite believe what had happened. I could.

“Careful now,” Pedro said, patting his nose with a serviette. He closed his eyes tight, winced, but said, “Security will be here to haul you away.”

Haul, they absolutely would not. No one would touch her. Especially him. The only way he’d get the blessing of her touch would be if she’d punched him again. And I would cheer and woop.

I wasn’t a betting man; I was willing to bet my life on her.

“Not when I tell them you bought a drink for a minor, they won’t!”

“Hey,” I said to Everly’s back.

She nodded, shoulders lowering.

I had no intention of getting involved unless she asked me. My girl could handle herself.

“Look at her,” Pedro laughed and gestured with both hands at her sister. “She doesn’t look like a minor, does she? Showing herself off just like you used to.”

I’d let her handle it, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t punch him into the ground when she was done. If he was still breathing.

“Fuck you,” she snarled, prowling forward.

“Fuck me? You’ve always been so desperate,” he sighed and chucked his dirty serviette on Fia. She screwed up her nose and, with the tips of her finger and thumb, placed it in his drink.

Everly’s sister through and through.

“Such a big mouth for such a weak man,” Everly said, shaking her head in disbelief.

She stepped forward, and whatever expression she had on her beautiful face, made him inch back on the stool.

“You couldn’t handle a woman with agency, with power, with choice.

That’s why you hunted girls. Because deep down, you knew—you’d never survive a real woman seeing you for what you are. ”

He went to speak but she laughed. “You’re a weak, disgusting boy who needed to control someone to feel like a man. And guess what? I grew up. And you? You stayed pathetic.”

Everly Bacque was everything.

Two men in black shirts and earpieces shouldered their way through the crowd to my side.

“She punched me,” Pedro said to them, lazily gesturing to my girlfriend. “She assaulted me.”

“Because he tried to make a move on my very underage sister!” she cried, pointing at him. “He’s a paedophile.”

The two men looked at each other in bewilderment.

Fia had looked on silently, but she jumped down from her stool and said to the men, “I’d check his phone if I were you. If he’s had the intelligence to delete his dirty little messages — which I doubt — you can look at mine.”

Everly spun around to stare at her sister, eyes wide. She cocked her head to the side as if to say, ‘ex-fucking-scooze me?’

The men took Pedro by the arms, escorting him out to his relatively calm cries of innocence.

Livie was ushering people out of the small room with a sweet smile, and Everly crushed her sister in a hug. “Did he—did he touch you?”

She scoffed, pulling back and rolling her eyes. “C’mon, Ever. As if I’d let him.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrowed in question.

“He thought he had me wrapped around his little finger,” she laughed.

“But it was me. That man got himself tied up in knots.” She lifted her little finger to emphasise her point.

“All I had to do was like his comment on your post and — boom — he was in my DMs, and I was acting clueless. I had to pretend I hated you, and slagged you off a bit, so maybe don’t read those messages, but he fell for it bad.

I’ve got loads, though. I have enough messages to prove he’s a…

what did you call him? A fucking piece of filth. ”

She lifted her phone and swiped through. There were hundreds of messages.

“I told Dad I was going to meet my bio-dad here and instead I met up with wankstain,” she explained. “I just happened to record our entire conversation at the bar. No one fucks with my sister, so I did what I could.”

Tears gathered in Everly’s eyes and she pulled her sister into her arms.

“You’re creasing my dress,” Fia scolded, but she hugged her back, resting her head on Everly’s shoulder.

“It’s my dress!” Everly laughed-cried, holding her sister tighter.

* * *

Pedro didn’t get prison time like he deserved. He was put on the sex offenders list and wasn’t allowed the internet for five years. MotoBike fired him and numerous articles followed explaining exactly why.

He was ruined.

It wasn’t enough.

Nothing would be enough.

But Nix had him under constant surveillance, waiting for him to make one wrong move to put him in prison.

We’d find something eventually.

Everly tried to put him behind her, but she started therapy sessions to break down exactly what had happened to her and how to process it.

And in my therapy sessions, I discussed how I wanted to help her.

Whilst also helping myself.

We toured the world. StormSprint always meant we were on the move, but we didn’t stay still. There were nearly 200 countries in the world, and we were going to tick off every one. Together.

But the scariest for us was Italy. Specifically, Verona. Precisely, Nonna Imelda’s house.

There wasn’t a world for me without Everly Bacque. Neither was there one where I didn’t race, nor where I didn’t love my family.

But those three things hadn’t been cooperating for some time.

With Everly’s hand in mine, it was time to face it all head-on.

Standing outside of my Nonna’s house, Everly leaned against me, her arm against mine, her head resting on my bicep. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” I said and bent to kiss her. “But we can get back on the bike and go whenever we need to.”

The whole ride over, I’d felt sick. Somehow, even when she hardly knew me, Everly was capable of taking away all my worries.

She covered my visor at the lights, taunted me by putting her hands a little too close to my cock, and pretended to tickle me.

Driving fast on the straight, she spread her arms wide, enjoying the breeze.

I adored her.

I stood by her side; it didn’t matter what my family thought.

What mattered was that we were still standing. Still riding. Still loving.

And no one— no one —could take that from us now.