30. Shepherd #2
“She doesn’t need rescuing,” I reply evenly, feeling my teammates fan out behind me. “But you will if you don’t walk out of this bar right now and never return.”
Micah laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. “Or what? You’ll tackle me? Get your goon squad to rough me up?” He gestures wildly at my teammates. “That’s assault, Haynes. I know my rights.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Killian calls out from behind me. “Free drinks and food for the rest of the night if you all put your phones away right now and forget the next sixty seconds ever happened.”
The crowd scrambles to put away their phones, and a collective nod passes through the bar. Everyone knows what’s about to happen. Everyone understands.
“You know what?” I step closer to Micah. “I made a promise to Sutton that I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
Micah’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Smart girl. At least she knows how to keep her dog on a leash.”
“But I never promised I wouldn’t do something necessary.”
My fist connects with his jaw before he can say another word. The impact reverberates up my arm, a satisfying crack that silences whatever vile thing was about to come out of his mouth. He stumbles backward, eyes wide with shock.
“That’s for Sutton,” I say, my voice eerily calm despite the rage coursing through me.
Micah touches his jaw, stunned disbelief turning to fury. “You fucking—”
Jake steps forward, his right hook catching Micah in the stomach, doubling him over. “That’s for what you did to her.”
Micah gasps for breath, but there’s no reprieve. Boone moves in next, landing a perfect uppercut. “That’s for breaking her ribs.”
One by one, my teammates step up, each delivering a single, calculated blow.
Not enough to kill him—we’re not monsters— but enough to make sure he understands exactly what happens when you hurt someone we care about.
My brothers take the final few hits and then I land the last blow, a precise strike that sends Micah sprawling onto the sticky bar floor.
He lies there groaning, blood trickling from his split lip, his eye already swelling shut.
I lean over his limp body and tell him, “You will never set foot in this bar again and you will never even think of getting close to Sutton or so help me God, I will fucking end you, and I don’t give a shit what it costs me.”
“This isn’t over,” Micah spits, blood spraying from his mouth. “I’ll have all your careers for this.”
“Actually, it is over,” Sutton says, stepping forward.
Her voice doesn’t waver, and her eyes are clear and steady as she looks at the broken man before her.
“And no one will believe you got jumped by a bunch of fine, upstanding football players after you got yourself fired from your job. Just like no one believed me when you drugged me, raped me, beat me, and put me in the hospital.” She stands tall and then kicks Micah in his gut, the force of her boot doubling him over on the ground.
“That’s for all the women who undoubtedly came after me and may never get their moment. ”
The bar remains perfectly silent as Cal, Kyler, and Boone haul Micah to his feet. His face is a mess—swollen, bleeding, barely recognizable—but the hatred in his eyes remains undimmed as they drag him toward the exit.
“You’re all witnesses!” he gurgles, his voice breaking. “Assault! Battery!”
“Witnesses to what?” Cal asks innocently, looking around the bar. “I didn’t see anything. Did anyone see anything?”
A chorus of denial ripples through the crowd. Heads shake. Shoulders shrug. Not a single phone in sight.
“Must’ve fallen down drunk,” someone calls out.
“Happens all the time,” another voice adds.
The bar erupts into cheers as the door slams behind Micah, people raising their glasses and shouting Sutton’s name. She looks momentarily stunned by the support, her eyes wide as she takes in the crowd of strangers rallying around her.
I move to her side, careful not to crowd her, giving her the space to feel this moment fully. “You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low enough that only she can hear me.
She looks up at me, her dark eyes shining with unshed tears, but they’re not tears of fear or pain. There’s something else there. Something that looks a lot like…freedom.
“I’ve never been better,” she says, and the smile that breaks across her face is genuine as it lights up the room. “I’ve waited nine years to say those words to him,” she says, her voice steady and strong.
I flex my hand, knuckles already starting to swell, but the pain is nothing compared to the pride blooming in my chest watching her. This is what it looks like when someone reclaims their power, when they face down their demons and walk away whole.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Sutton wraps her arms around me, and I pull her close, feeling her body trembling against mine. Not from fear, I realize, but from adrenaline. The kind that comes with finally feeling the win you deserve more than anything.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my chest.
I shake my head. “You did that all on your own. I just provided the finale.”
“The finale was my favorite part,” she says, leaning back to look at my hand. “Does it hurt?”
“Not even a little.”
Cal appears with a tray of shots, sliding them onto the nearest table. “On the house,” he announces, nodding at Sutton with unmistakable pride.
The team crowds around us, a protective circle of brotherhood that now includes Sutton. Jake raises his glass, beer sloshing over the rim. “To Sutton Price, the baddest bitch in Portland!”
“To Sutton!” the toast rings out through the bar.
Her cheeks flush with color as she looks around at all these people—my teammates, my brothers, strangers—celebrating her victory. I can see the moment it hits her, the realization that she’s not alone anymore. That she has an entire army behind her now.
A whole family of people who love her.
She leans into me, her body warm against mine despite the chill that swept in when Micah entered. I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely her—as the celebration swirls around us.
“I feel like I can breathe,” she whispers against my chest. “Really breathe for the first time in years.”
I run my hand up her back, feeling the tension that’s always been there slowly dissolving beneath my touch. “You were incredible.”
“We were incredible,” she corrects, pulling back to look at my bruising knuckles. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s going to hurt tomorrow.”
“Worth it,” I tell her, flexing my fingers. The pain is already setting in, a dull throb that I welcome. Small price to pay for what we just accomplished together.
The team is still celebrating around us, recounting each blow with increasing embellishment.
They each take a minute to give Sutton a hug and a high-five and then they’re spreading out and talking with strangers in the bar schmoozing, taking pictures, and signing autographs.
If there’s one thing this team knows how to do, it’s have each other’s backs at all times and tonight they have mine and Sutton’s one thousand percent.
“Your girl’s got more balls than most of the defensive line,” Sebastian says, appearing at my side with an ice pack. He presses it against my knuckles without asking, his medical instincts kicking in.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” I say, watching Sutton across the room as she accepts another round of congratulations from a group of regular customers. The pride swelling in my chest feels almost painful, like my heart’s grown three sizes in the last hour.
“Amazing doesn’t cover it,” Sebastian replies, adjusting the ice pack on my knuckles. “I’ve been in emergency rooms with trauma patients who showed less courage than she just did.”
I wince as the cold seeps into my bruised skin. “Worth every bit of pain.”
“Speaking of which, any particular reason you let everyone else get their shots in before you stepped back in for the finale?” Sebastian asks, his doctor eyes assessing me.
I shrug. “Seemed fair. I got first dibs.”
“Right,” he says with a knowing smirk. “Nothing to do with making sure your throwing hand wasn’t too damaged before that last punch.”
“Maybe I’m just strategic.”
Sebastian laughs. “Or maybe you wanted to make sure you could still play next week while getting your point across.”
“Can’t it be both?” I grin, flexing my fingers beneath the ice.
“You can’t fool me,” Sebastian chuckles. “I’ve known you your whole life.”
I shake my head, unable to keep the smile from my face. “Fine, you caught me. I wasn’t about to risk next week’s game over that piece of shit.”
“Smart man.” Sebastian pats my shoulder, then looks across the room at Sutton. “Though I think you would have done it anyway if he’d pushed just a little more.”
He’s right. If Micah had gotten any closer to Sutton, if he’d said one more word about her, I wouldn’t have cared about my hand or the next game or my whole damn career. Some things matter more.
“Probably,” I admit.
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” Sebastian hands me a fresh beer. “You’ve got something special with her, Shep. Don’t mess it up.”
“Not planning on it.” I take the beer, my eyes finding Sutton again as she laughs at something Killian says. The sound carries across the bar, and something inside me settles at the sound of her genuine happiness.
When the bar finally closes I stick around with Sutton to help Cal clean up and I pay the final tab plus a whole lot extra. “Can’t thank you enough Cal.”
“For what?” he asks, glancing down at the wad of one hundred dollar bills I’ve placed in front of him.
“For letting us crash your bar tonight to celebrate. For letting that bullshit with Brannigan play out…for Sutton’s sake. She needed tonight and I’m forever grateful you had a hand in allowing her to stand her ground and take her power back.”
We both watch as Sutton wipes down tables in the back of the room.
Cal nods and then pushes his hands into his pockets.
“I had a feeling it was bad,” he says softly.
“But I never knew how bad. Not until tonight. The fucker got what he deserved. If I ever see him in here again, I’ll kill him myself. ”
I shake Cal’s hand and give him an appreciative brotherly hug. “Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.
When Sutton finally makes it back to the bar, her shoulders slump and dark circles rim her eyes like bruises against her pale skin. Her fingers tremble slightly as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re beautiful, even when you’re tired as hell. Do you know that?” I smile before leaning over and kissing her temple, breathing in the lingering scent of her vanilla perfume mixed with the smoky haze of the bar.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted,” she says, her voice raspy from the night’s confrontation. “Like seriously feel like I could sleep for a week.” She leans against the polished mahogany bar, eyelids heavy.
I chuckle, sliding my arm around her waist to steady her. “That’s the adrenaline drop. Your body was in shock and now that it’s over, what goes up must come down. Like a roller coaster after the big hill.”
“Take me home then, Haynes.” She presses her forehead against my chest, her warmth seeping through my shirt. “I’m ready for a steaming hot shower and your big comfy bed.”
“That,” I say, running my thumb across her flushed cheek, “I can provide.”