Page 95 of Ravage God

“Baby—”

“Well, what do we have here?” I tensed at the deep voice coming from our left. Three rough-looking men stood there, surrounding us. My mind told me to take in as much information as I could, as it might be useful later on.

I couldn’t focus on any details. They all blurred. Only one thing stood out.

They were all looking at Elio like they had won the lottery. Elio pushed me behind him and turned to face them.

“Well, if it isn’t the fucking MC rats, crawling out from whatever hole you’ve been hiding in?”

“Brave words coming from a man who is about to meet his maker soon,” one said.

Elio turned and pushed me toward the wall, into the shadows.

Another laughed. “There’s no point in hiding the bitch. We already know she’s there. And once we’re done with you, we’re coming for her. Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure she screams my name louder than she has ever screamed yours.”

They cackled, the sound sending chills down my spine.

I could see Elio’s entire body going rigid, a predatory stillness settling over him that made my heart stall. When he spoke, his voice had dropped dangerously low.

“You just signed your death warrant.”

I tried to swallow, but it felt like something was blocking my throat. Would I be able to scream if I needed to? To call for help?

The men laughed, but I sensed something in the sound, a hesitancy of sorts—uncertainty. They knew Elio wasn’t someone you should mess with. If they knew whose car was out there, then they had probably heard of Elio’s reputation.

“Three against one, pretty boy,” the tallest one said, pulling something from his jacket pocket. Metal glinted under the neon lights—a knife. I shook as my eyes blurred. I tried to focus on anything, just anything, but my mind seemed to be nothing more than a jumbled mess. I had never felt more useless than I did then.

“Isa," Elio said without turning, his voice eerily calm. “When I move, you run. Don’t look back."

“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered, terror clawing at my throat. I was never leaving him.

The music continued playing inside, the hum of the beat going in tandem with my racing heart, shaking in my ribcage, as if nothing was happening, the square dancers oblivious to the violence about to erupt in our shadowy corner.

Elio’s voice hardened. “That's not a request.”

I didn’t fucking care.

The men positioned themselves in a rough semicircle around us. The one with the knife inched in closer to Elio. I didn’t dare make a sound. I didn’t want to distract Elio.

“Waylen is going to love playing with De Luca’s whore. Think we can get a nice reward for that?” one asked, obviously trying to egg Elio on, but I didn’t think they were joking either.

I leaned back against the wall, searching around for anything I could use to help Elio and defend myself. There was nothing but trash on the ground.

Elio got into position, his arms relaxed by his side, but his stance wasn’t. He never moved his eyes away from them, ready to spring. His breathing seemed to have changed—slower, more deliberate. I'd never seen him like that before, and it terrified me.

“Last chance,” Elio said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Walk away, and I'll let you keep your kneecaps.”

They didn’t take the chance. They all came at once.

Elio moved, too, jumping on the one with the knife first. My eyes strained in the dim light, trying to see where Elio was, but it was hard. I could hear a few grunts, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then a thud as a body hit the ground. I flinched, and for one quick second, I thought it might have been Elio, but no. It was the man with the knife. He was out cold on the ground.

And Elio got his knife.

Dark liquid seeped onto the concrete, and I covered my mouth, trying hard not to lose it just as Elio turned to the other two.

He went after the tallest one, ramming his elbow into the man’s face until blood splattered out from his nose, before turning to the shorter, smaller man, ramming the knife into the side of his neck. He pulled the knife out with quick precision, and the man crumpled to his knees, clutching at his throat as blood spurted out from between his fingers.

I couldn’t look away.