Page 39 of Heavy

“Don’t!” she screams.

A little too late for that, unfortunately. I was ready to produce some violence with Ken, but this feels much more productive of my time.

Grabbing the one that has her in his grip, I yank him back and grin, just as my fist collides with his nose.

In the movies, people hesitate to react, scream out “what the hell, man” and “who are you”. That shit doesn’t happen in reality. It’s why I’m prepared for the punch coming straight at my face.

I take a step back and dodge the hit, grabbing onto his wrist just as my fist makes contact with his elbow at the perfect angle to pop it out of place. He screams and before he can gather himself, I take his shirt into my grip, then slam my forehead into his nose.

I grip his dislocated arm and pull him forward, using his momentum against him. Just as he reaches the point where I can strike, I deliver a swift kick to his knee, sending him crashing to the floor alongside his friend.

I’m so tunneled, all I see are the other two squaring their shoulders to me. I don’t hear shouts or worry about anyone else, just the other two ready to fight.

Raising my hand, I gesture for them to come at me. The moment one begins his swing, bright blonde hair comes into my view.

The tunnel vision shatters, and the world snaps back into focus. Calista stands defiantly between me and the approaching man, forcing him to halt. But in my moment of distraction, I feel an arm wrap around my throat, yanking me backward. The surge of rage inside me triples at the contact. I swing my elbow back hard, connecting with his ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch.

“Let go of me!” Cal shrieks.

When I look, one of the men has grabbed her, but not to drag her off. Instead, he roughly shoves her against the table, and her head bounces off the surface. I’m grateful her friend is there to support her from falling to the ground.

“Get her out of here!” I growl, and throw my head back, the one holding me grunting as I make contact.

Her friend doesn’t hesitate, puts Cal’s arm around her neck, and ushers her away.

“No, no, wait! Wait! You can’t!” she argues, but I’m now focused where I need to be, and not having to concern myself with her.

Now it’s time to retreat into the one place I know best—where violence is both my catalyst and my shield. It’s what I’ve relied on for the past twenty-eight years, shaping me into who I am.

Screams erupt, pleading for this to end before it spirals further out of control, but these assholes have put their hands where they don’t belong, and they clearly had no intention to stop, and neither do I. I’m more than ready to match their energy.

One of them swings a fist at me, but whether he’s drunk or just clueless about how to fight, his move is awkward and easy to dodge. As his shoulder brushes past my chest, I drive my knee hard into his stomach, and a loud “oof” escapes him as I shove him into the nearest table.

A punch connects with my cheek from behind, but it only grazes me, doing more damage to my ear than anything else. I snap my elbow back, landing a solid hit on his mouth and hearing the satisfying crack.

Another guy lunges from the front, but I counter with a fist right between the eyes of the bastard who threw Calista. His nose erupts in blood, spilling down to his chin like a crimson river.

Just as I start to relish the chaos, a punch comes from my side, hitting me in the temple. God, does it feel good. I roll my shoulders and grin, but my excitement is cut short by a loud bang that sends everyone shrieking and scrambling to escape.

Wonderful. Justfuckingwonderful.

13

Calista

Myheadhurts,andI get the sense I’m floating.

After being dragged out of the bar, I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a moment. Flashes of the car ride flicker in my mind, and I distinctly remember telling my best friend I have the hots for my step-uncle. I definitely need to have a chat with her about that.

I can’t quite piece together what happened or how I ended up in bed, but at least I’m back in the cabin. The comforting scent of Ronan surrounds me, easing my anxiety. Everything feels hazy except for the moment he burst in like Batman to rescue me. He looked furious—at me! What could I have done to earn that look?

With a groan, I force my eyes open. The room is dark, and the bed feels different. It’s still uncomfortable, but as I shift, I realize it’s much larger than the twin I’ve barely been able to roll around on.

Just then, the door swings open with a loud bang against the wall, and I gasp involuntarily, the sound echoing in my ears. My movements are sluggish, but I finally sit up and quickly understand why the bed feels strange and Ronan’s scent is so strong: I’m not in my room. Oh god, did I crawl into his bed when I got home?

He stands before me, his shoulders rising as he takes a deep breath. His hands flex into fists at his sides, and for a brief moment, I’m scared he might want to hurt me. Is he here to punish me for getting so drunk that I punched some guy and made him come save me?

I can’t even remember why I threw that punch; he must have said something that pushed me over the edge. That was the catalyst for everything.