Chapter 31 Jasper
Chapter thirty-one
Jasper
My fist tangles in the front of Ethan’s jacket as I slam him backward, his spine cracking against the brick hard enough that a sick sense of satisfaction runs through me.
But the sound also punches something loose in my chest, something feral, and I welcome it all.
He wheezes, feet scrambling for traction, hands coming up all too late.
“You don’t get to talk to her,” I snarl, shoving him again. “Ever.”
To my left, Lawson has Grayson pinned to the wall, forearm jammed under his throat. Grayson struggles—actually tries to fight it—until Lawson drives a single, brutal punch into his ribs. It’s a precise hit. Measured. And it knocks the air clean out of him.
Beau’s got Caleb locked up beside the dumpster, arm cinched around his neck in what looks like a lazy headlock if you didn’t know any better.
But I do. Beau’s smiling ear to ear. But it’s not the easygoing one he usually wears.
No, this one’s sharp, almost delighted. Either way, Caleb doesn’t fight it.
Just stands there stiff, eyes darting between his brothers like he’s waiting for instructions.
Fucking coward.
My forearm pushes harder into Ethan’s collarbone as I lean in close. He smells like cheap whiskey, sweat, and arrogance. “Thought you were one of the funny ones.” He coughs, trying to spit at my boots. “This your girl then, too? Bet she—”
My fist slams into his gut, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her.
Abigail’s tucked tight beside Lincoln, exactly where she should be.
Lincoln’s hand is locked around hers, grip steady, shoulders squared.
Anyone who thinks he’s just a lawyer has never seen him fight.
But I have. Plenty of times. He won’t hesitate if he needs to.
Knowing she’s safe doesn’t stop the rage.
It feeds it.
Ethan’s head snaps forward when I drive my forehead into his nose. It hurts like a bitch, but I don’t even care as I watch blood pour down his face. Time to remind these assholes who exactly they’re dealing with.
“You ever so much as look at her again,” I practically growl, “I’ll make sure you can’t see straight enough to recognize her.”
He laughs. A broken, wheezing sound. “You don’t fucking scare me.”
That’s when I grab his throat. I apply just enough pressure to make it hard to breathe. “You should be fucking terrified.”
Lawson shifts closer, Grayson still trapped under his arm.
He hears me. I know he does. But I don’t care.
I lean in just enough that my hot breath brushes Ethan’s ear.
My voice is venomous now. “You touch our land again, or you so much as breathe her name as if you’re entitled to it, I will fucking kill you.
And I’ll bury you so deep in the ground even Keller won’t know where to dig. ”
Ethan’s eyes flick to Lawson.
Good.
Let him know this isn’t just me talking.
A slow grin spreads across Ethan’s face, and something in me snaps.
Maybe it’s the way he still doesn’t look sorry.
Maybe it’s years of pent-up aggression toward this fuckin’ family.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Abigail’s involved now. Women caught in the crossfire always pay first.
Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care.
I punch him.
Hard.
My knuckles explode with pain as his head smacks the wall again. He slides down the brick, coughing, spitting blood, hands grasping at his face.
And that’s when I know I need out.
Now.
Before I do something I can’t take back.
Because now is definitely not the time.
I step away so fast it almost feels like I’m tearing myself in two.
One half of me wants to turn into the person I spent years afraid of, and the other part of me wants to be better.
To walk away. My chest is heaving, ears ringing, pulse roaring too loud to ignore.
I don’t look at Ethan or his brothers again. I don’t look at anyone.
I just turn and storm straight into the Busted Barrel.
The bathroom door slams behind me, the lock rattling as I throw it. I brace both my hands on the sink, breathing hard, staring at my reflection as if it might magically turn into my father.
Get it together.
Come on, Jasper.
A knock sounds at the door. “Go away,” I snap. “It’s occupied.”
Silence.
Then, a voice so soft and measured sounds through the wood. “Jas,” Abigail says. “It’s me. Please open the door.”