9. Edward
Chapter 9
Edward
My heart pounds a relentless drumbeat in the oppressive silence as Ember is dragged from the room. Every instinct screams at me to follow, but I force myself to stay put. Logic rules now, not emotion. If I rush into this blind, I’ll be no good to her. If one hair on her head is harmed, though, these fuckers will pay.
The tension in the air is electric, pressing down like a storm about to break. I was relaxing on the sofa with Ember in my arms only minutes ago. Now, the world has turned upside down. I need a minute to think, to form a plan, but the growing hostility in Razor’s eyes tells me I may not have that luxury.
Razor stands in the center of the room, the muzzle of his pistol aimed squarely at me, his finger twitching on the trigger like he’s itching for a reason to squeeze. His eyes are sharp, calculating. He’s a predator who enjoys toying with his prey.
“Look at you,” he sneers, his voice carrying a dangerous calm. “Big, bad Eddie, protector of damsels in distress. Not doing such a great job, are you?”
I keep my hands at my sides, my body deliberately loose despite the anger coiling inside me like a spring. “Let her go,” I say evenly, every muscle in my body ready to strike.
Razor chuckles, low and menacing. “You’re not in a position to make demands, Eddie. Not anymore.” He gestures after Ember, the motion deliberate, taunting. “Besides, she doesn’t seem like your type. Too fiery. She’ll burn you out in no time.”
“Well, if this isn’t just the best Christmas yet. Razor, baby, you sure know how to treat a lady. That bitch looked like she wanted to fight, but I’ll wait until we get her back to the clubhouse to play with her.”
My gaze flies to Rebecca as she saunters into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She looks the same as always—poised, perfectly coiffed, and dripping with disdain. But the cruel smirk on her face tells me she’s taken her descent into Razor’s world as a badge of honor.
Razor’s grin stretches wide, his teeth bared in a grotesque semblance of affection before he pulls her to him. Their lips meet with an audible squelch that has my gut twisting in disgust.
I cast a cold glance at Rebecca as Razor preens under her attention. “If you could refrain from swapping spit with that walking petri dish, I might keep my dinner where it belongs.”
She’s across the room in a flash, her hand cracking against my cheek. The slap is meant to wound, but I’m beyond her brand of hurt.
“That was the first and last time, Rebecca,” I say with deadly calm, my eyes boring into hers. “Next time, I’ll hit back. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, but I’ll make an exception for you.”
Her eyes flicker with a hint of fear before she turns on her heel and sidles back to Razor.
My gaze flickers briefly to the doorway Ember was dragged through, silently willing her to fight, to hold on.
“Too quiet, Eddie,” Razor says, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Makes me wonder what you’re thinking. Let’s go over your options, shall we? Door number one: stay, and your girlfriend pays the price. Door number two: ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after.”
“Let me make one thing clear,” I bite out. “Lay one finger on Ember, and I’ll fucking end you.”
Rebecca laughs, the sound sharp and grating. “You’re all talk. Always have been.” She steps closer, close enough that I can smell the cheap perfume masking the stench of cigarettes and liquor. “You couldn’t even keep me happy, remember? That’s why I left. I needed a real man.”
I smile, slow and deliberate, showing how little her words affect me. “And yet, here you are, still trying to get a rise out of me. Guess Razor’s not quite the ‘real man’ you thought, huh?”
The smile drops from her face, replaced by a flash of fury. Before she can respond, movement outside draws all of our attention.
My heart leaps as I catch sight of Ember through the window. She’s fighting, her movements wild and desperate as she struggles against the man holding her.
Razor’s aim lowers, his attention momentarily distracted.
That’s my opening.
I move fast, grabbing the heavy iron fire poker from the hearth. It’s not a gun, but it’s enough. Razor barely has time to react before I swing, the iron bar connecting with his wrist. The gun clatters to the floor, and I lunge, kicking it across the room and out of his reach.
“Son of a bitch!” Razor roars, cradling his wrist.
He recovers quickly, coming at me with a wild swing. I dodge, using the poker to deflect his next attack, but the force of it sends me staggering back a step.
Before I can recover, Rebecca throws herself onto my back, her nails digging into my neck. She claws at me with a feral desperation, screaming incoherent insults.
I grit my teeth and shift my weight, throwing Rebecca off with enough force to send her sprawling. But the distraction costs me—Razor scrambles toward the gun, his movements quick and panicked.
“No!” Ember’s voice rings out, sharp and commanding.
I whip my head around to see her snatching the gun off the floor and leveling it at Razor’s head, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with fury.
“Don’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “Don’t come any closer.”
The fuckwit who dragged Ember outside staggers in. Deep scratches mark the right side of his face and neck, and a small pair of scissors is embedded in his right thigh—the scissors Ember used earlier on those godawful ribbons. God, I love this woman. My brave little Firefly.
Razor straightens slowly, lifting his hands in a mockery of surrender as Ember swings the gun wildly between him and Fuckwit. “Easy, sweetheart. You don’t want to do this.”
Ember doesn’t lower the gun. “Try me,” she snaps. “Get out. All of you.”
Rebecca stumbles to her feet, her face pale and furious. “You’re making a big mistake, girl. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“No,” Ember replies, her voice steadying. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Get the fuck out.”
Razor’s jaw tightens, but he steps back, raising his hands higher. “Fine,” he mutters. “We’ll go. But this ain’t over.”
I move carefully toward Ember, gently taking the gun from her cold hands. “No. It’s not,” I agree, my voice as low and steady as the weapon in my hand pointed as I point it at his chest. “But if you’re smart, you’ll walk away while you still can.”
With a sharp curse, he storms out, Rebecca and Fuckwit hot on his heels.
They’re gone, leaving the house in silence.
“Edward.” Ember trembles against me.
I crush her agains t me, then pull back, my hands shaking as I cup her face. My beautiful, fierce Firefly, even with her hair mussed and eyes wide with shock. “Are you okay?”
She nods, her eyes welling with tears. “I am now.”
Relief crashes over me, and I pull her into my arms again, holding her tightly. But even as I cling to her, the weight of what just happened settles in my chest.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.