Chapter 23 #2
Seizing the opportunity, I drove my elbow hard into his stomach.
A grunt of pain erupted from him. He staggered backwards, and the predatory gleam in his eyes was dimmed by the shock of retaliation.
I spun on my heel, channeling every ounce of fury and fear.
My knee connected with his balls, a statement that I refused to be his victim.
I didn't wait for him to recover. With adrenaline moving me, I sprinted back toward the bar, my heart pounding against my ribs. Each step was fueled by my desperation to find somewhere safe. The door burst open under my panicking push, and light and noise flooded over me.
I had tunnel vision as I searched through the bar until—Reese. I ran to him and hurled myself into his arms without hesitation, without thinking. He was the only sanctuary I wanted. His familiar scent enveloped me, the feeling of safety washing over and overwhelming me.
"Reese," I breathed. In his arms I found solace. He was a fierce protector encased in casual defiance. He was the only person I wanted, the only one who could make the trembling cease and give me the strength to pull myself together.
His arms wrapped around me firmly, anchoring me in his warmth. "Caroline, what happened? What’s wrong?” His voice was steady and soothing, though his eyes brimmed with unspoken worry that made my chest ache.
My lips were sealed shut because what could I say? I was still in shock.
He pulled back from me, and then I saw the twitch in his clenched jaw. And oh, I knew that twitch. That one that meant he was dead serious right now.
"Caroline, what's going on? Why are you upset?" The anxious voice belonged to Sam, who was seconds away from making a scene. She approached us, her eyes wide, searching for answers.
Reese's gaze snapped to her, "You, sit," he said, glancing from her to the chair behind her.
Obediently, and with surprising quickness, Sam did exactly as he said.
There was something about Reese in that moment—the raw intensity, the barely contained anger—that made my heart flutter.
Fuck, he was incredibly sexy when he took control.
Reese's hand clasped my shoulder, his body shielding me from prying eyes. "Talk to me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "And don't even think about lying to me or saying you're fine."
My resolve was melting under his steady gaze. I sucked in a deep breath, an attempt to gather my scattered thoughts. But the air hitched in my lungs as the back door creaked open, and I knew exactly who it was. Wells stumbled through, his face pale. The sight of him made me feel sick again.
I glanced at him, then back at Reese, whose jaw remained locked in a hard line. His eyes briefly flicked to Wells, tracking the direction of my gaze. Then, I saw it—the question he didn't want to ask but had to.
"Was it Wells?"
I nodded, feeling the affirmation catch in my throat. The acknowledgment felt like a betrayal, to myself, to the strength I thought I possessed to always take care of myself.
His hands balled into fists at his side. "What did he do? Caroline, if he even touched one hair on your head..."
My pulse throbbed in my ears. "It's okay," I murmured, the words brittle. "I fought back. I—I stopped him."
His broad shoulders tensed briefly before he let out a slow, heavy breath, the sound laced with the weight of his restrained anger. "What do you mean you fought back?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate.
"He said he heard we were together, and he said—” my words faltered.
“He said what?” he growled, another twitch in his jaw.
“He said that he could make me feel better than you can… he held me against the wall," I confessed as quietly as I could. "I told him to stop."
“He did what?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
The green of his eyes were now dark and stormy. The floor seemed to sway slightly under me as I continued. "Then he tried to touch me," I said, closing my eyes for a moment, "but I stopped him."
Reese's reaction was silence, a nod so subtle it could have been missed by anyone not looking for it. But I saw it, a silent understanding of everything that happened.
His voice when he finally spoke was calm laced with something darker. "Can you sit with Sam for a minute?" he asked, his eyes never leaving mine.
"What are you going to do?"
He didn't answer immediately, the muscles along his jaw continued clenching and unclenching. I was seeing a new side of him. The embodiment of the night itself—mysterious, protective, and undeniably magnetic.
"I'll handle it," he promised, the quiet intensity in his words sending a shiver through me.
I reached out, my fingers grazing his arm, his sweatshirt doing little to mask the raw power that was beneath. "Don't—don't do anything," I stammered. "It was my fault. I flirted with him in the past... I gave him the wrong impression."
"Listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "This was not your fault. This is on me—he came after you because of something between him and I. You did nothing wrong, and you sure as hell didn’t deserve this. Do you hear me?"
"Yes," I whispered, barely trusting my voice.
"Wait here for me," Reese said then, his hands gentle as they guided me down into the stool next to Sam.
I couldn't help but notice his stillness. It was the deceptive calmness that was almost scary, a dangerous undercurrent that ran beneath the surface of his collected exterior. But those eyes of his said it all. He was about to obliterate everything and anything in his path.
Sam's concerned gaze flickered to Reese, her lips parting as if to speak but no words came.
Reese’s hand rose slowly as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up, letting it settle over his dark hair.
With the hood casting his face into inscrutable depths, he shot someone a barely perceptible nod.
Two of his teammates acknowledged with a slight dip of their heads as they fell into step beside him.
I watched, my breath held in captivity, as they made their way toward Wells. I knew Reese—he was relentless. But it was his stillness that spoke loudest. It was the calm before the storm; a chilling prelude to the damage he could do.
Wells, still pale from our earlier encounter, seemed to shrink back as they approached, his features contorting in dawning realization. He was about to face the consequences of his actions, at the wrath of a man whose protective instincts were as fierce as they were unforgiving.
Reese said something to Wells before they walked out the back door, and his teammates stood at the back entrance after them, protecting the scene like armed guards.