“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…he touched me, and—”
“Motherfucker!” I let go of Neon, knowing Alyx was there, and launched myself at the fucker. My fist collided with his jaw, the sickening sound of bone crashing against bone. I wanted to break his face and tear his fucking skin off. Grabbing him by the collar, I crashed his back into one of the tables, people flying out of the way like fucking birds. With a fist to his gut, he crouched over, and I took the opening by slamming my knee into his midsection, over and over and over again. I couldn’t stop. All I saw was red, and it was fucking with my brain, making me want to tear this man apart. Fighting like a ravenous, crazed animal going for the kill, I kept beating my fist into his face, one punch after the other, the feel of his bone cracking fueling my rage. There was no voice inside my head telling me to stop, only a demon screaming for me to break this son of bitch.
I swung my fist one more time when a hand grabbed my arm. Judging by the force with which I got pulled back, I knew it could only have been one person. Granite.
“What the fuck is going on here?” His voice slammed against the ceiling like a motherfucking sonic boom.
“He put his filthy hands on Neon,” I gritted between clenched teeth, glaring at the fucker squirming on the floor.
The guy spat out a mouthful of blood, his face looking like a battlefield. I didn’t recognize him, which meant he wasn’t a regular. “Who the fuck let you in here?”
He couldn’t talk. He was too busy fighting the pain I just dished out.
Granite gripped my arm tighter. “Take Neon and get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m not done with him yet.”
“Yes, you are. Now, leave. I’ll take care of this fucking mess.”
My glare met Granite’s, and I bit my bottom lip, tasting my own blood. Jerking out of his hold, I rushed to Neon, whose face was red and cheeks were wet. There was something raw about her tears, like her pain was still an open wound. I placed an arm around her waist. “Come on.”
She was shaking so badly, she couldn’t put one foot in front of the other without stumbling, so I wrapped my arms around her and picked her up. With no objection, she merely placed her arms around my neck and leaned her head against my shoulder, her tears soaking through my shirt.
“I got you, baby. I got you.”
15
Neon
I didn’t knowwhat happened. All I remembered was feeling two hands on my waist—unfamiliar hands—and I was catapulted back into that room, watching my blood drip on the white-tiled floor beneath me.
Flashes of light. Pain. Fear. It all came crashing down, and I lost myself. I felthishands.Hisfingers.Hisvile touch. For a split second, I saw his face everywhere, and I reacted, slamming my fist into a man’s face.
But when I stumbled back into the arms of another man, I knew it was Ink. I knew it from the indescribable relief that gushed over me, taking me back to the day he carried me after hell delivered me to him—beaten and broken. Torn apart.
Now, he was carrying me again, clutching me tightly against his chest and letting me feel his warmth in the comfort of his arms. As my tears soaked into his shirt, I hated that I had become this dependent on someone else. I hated that I was weak, unable to fight the demons that refused to let go.
I heard him shut the door behind us, and I lifted my head, realizing he had carried me all the way to my room even though it only felt like a single moment.
“You okay, babe?” He sat on my bed, still holding me against him, resting me on his lap.
“I don’t know what happened. I felt someone touch me, and the next thing I knew, I was back there, in that room.”
He tightened his hold around me. “That fucker had no right to touch you.”
I shook my head. “I think he was just trying to move past, trying to make his way through the crowd.”
“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to touch you.”
I didn’t move my arms from around his neck. I was clutching him for dear life, refusing to let go as if he was the last lifeline I had left. He stroked up and down my arm, his touch soft and gentle. I never would have guessed the Ink I had known for so long could be this kind and caring. His fingertips traced along my shoulders, warm and inviting—nothing like the cruel touch of the devil’s hand on my broken body.
“It’s different with you.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed. “When you touch me, it doesn’t hurt.”
“I will never hurt you, Neon. Ever.”
“You know what’s strange?”
“What?”