TWENTY-TWO
I slide my arm around Hanna as we make our way out of the hockey arena. Her feet root to the ground as her eyes gaze up at a dirty blonde man. "Hanna, could… we, uh—" He stops talking, his eyes coming to mine. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
Hanna shakes her head, tearing her gaze away as she wraps into my side. "I think she has a boyfriend, and you need to back the fuck down," I growl, teeth clenched. The words taste sour on my lips, but I don't care.
She fucking belongs to me, and if she needs a label and this douchebag needs a label, then a label will be delivered. The guy looks at Hanna again, his lips twitching. "Hanna, please, I—" he mumbles, looking at my sneakers.
Okay, enough of this bullshit.
"Fuck off!" I snarl, wrapping an arm around my girl. He turns on his heel, heading down the stairs toward his car. Turning to Hanna, my eyes soften when I see her expression. "Who the fuck was that, and how does he know you?" I ask, watching her eyes.
Hanna's lips tremble and she avoids my gaze, and something clicks in my brain. Rage slides into my vision and so does murder. This guy clearly broke a piece of her, and all I can see is red. The need to put a bullet in his brain after torturing him is all I see. "Wait, is that—" I stop mid-sentence, eying her expression. I know damn well who that bastard is. And if I have my way, he will be begging for mercy with blood coating the ground.
Leaving Hanna standing beside the front doors, I drop Damien's hockey bag and take my strides quickly as I follow him. "Hey!" I bark. He turns around and looks at me, confused. Before I can think, my fist flies out and connects with his jaw.
"What the fuck!" he bellows, grabbing me by my suit. Rage fills my eyes as I glare at him. This asshole did shit to my girlfriend while she was unconscious. Fuck . My eyes blaze and I throw another punch at his cheekbone.
All I see is red. Fucking red. Like the colour his blood will look when I'm slicing him up, piece by piece. "Damon!" someone yells nearby.
Ignoring them, I swing again, connecting my fist with the underside of his jaw. "You fucking bastard." I seethe, gripping his suit and shoving him into his car. Death would be too satisfying for him; I want to torture his life out of him.
His brain connects the dots the moment I slam into him. "She fucking wanted—" he spits, blood pouring from his mouth. Anger claws at me as I tackle him to the ground, both my fists swinging. He is going to fucking die.
He comes right back at me as we continue to brawl on the ground of the parking lot. I feel someone's arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the guy.
"Tucker! Get on the fucking bus!" a tall gray-haired man screeches, hauling his bloodied ass off the ground. But I'm not done. I won’t be done until this asshole is ten feet under, maybe not even then.
I'm heaving. I want to kill him. "Get off me!" I growl, lunging toward him again. I want his blood coating my skin and his eyes to be void.
Coach Sanchez gets in my face moments after the words leave my lips. "Leave the punches for the ice! Get in your car!" he yells. I know right then I screwed up. I was about to kill him in front of my entire hockey team.
A hockey team that knows nothing about my life or what I live. But that doesn't mean I can't find him later and drain his life. Wiping the blood from my lip, I turn around and come face to face with Chance Hilert as he releases my jacket from his grip. "What's going on?" he asks with concern.
I shake my head. I can't tell them; it's not my story to tell. Plus, I wouldn't be able to word the ways I wanted his death to pour out, either. Eying my girl across the lot, I slap Chance's shoulder and head back in her direction. "Oh my god, you're bleeding," she growls, grabbing my chin between her fingers.
I shrug and lick the blood from my lip. "You should see the other guy." I wink with a smirk. Hanna just rolls her eyes, hauling the hockey bag on her tiny body frame as she shoves me toward Ace's car.
"You can tell them why, if you want. I mean, they're going to ask, anyway," she whispers as she shoves the bag into the trunk. I nod and press my lips to hers. Though some of my detailed revenge needs to stay quiet.
"What the fuck was that about!" Ace growls as we slide into the car.
Hanna presses into me, her arms shaking. Laying a hand on her thigh, I look up at the boys. "That douchebag did shit to Hanna in high school without her permission." Sam's head turns to face me as he glares in the direction of the bus. I can sense Damien's tension as his lip curls.
I watch Ace as he grips the steering wheel. "He deserves a lot more than what he got," Ace growls.
Soon enough it will be time to bring Ace in on our lifestyle. My mother wants more soldiers, even though he didn’t grow up in the mafia world. He did grow up near an MC club, where his best friend still currently rides with them.
With that, we pull out of the parking lot and head back to Princeton. It's about ten p.m., but we all have classes tomorrow, so we can't afford to spend the night, even though that would be the best bet.
Wrapping my arm around Hanna, I pull her close as her eyes flutter closed. "Sleep, Cinderella," I whisper into her hair. Her eyes lock with Sam's and he nods. Lifting her legs, she drapes herself across Sam's lap while her head rests on mine.
Within seconds, I hear Hanna's soft breathing fill the car and my eyes meet with the boys as they all watch me. "Don't worry about it, Damon, we got your back and we have hers," Sam replies, typing a message into his phone quickly. I can see the murder clouding his version, too.
I guess it comes with the territory when you're a mafia prince. "Who are you telling?" I snap.
Sam shakes his head and passes me the phone. "My football buddy goes to school with him in Jersey. I didn't tell him Hanna's name; I just told him to make sure the hockey team knows to keep him away from girls."
I stare down at the screen, reading the messages between Sam and his friend Dean. The messages are simple: keep Jared from putting his hands on women, and invite him to Ricky's. I turn off Sam's phone and pass it back to him with a smile. "Thank you," I reply to all my friends.
"That's what friends are for. We have each other's back, and when they get a girl, we have hers, too," Ace replies, watching me from the rearview mirror. I don't voice the fact that I shouldn't keep Hanna.
But I can see it in Damien's eyes; he knows I won’t let her go. I think Sam knows it, too. I nod before pressing a kiss on the beautiful girl's head in my lap.
I wish I knew her back then. No way in bloody hell would anyone ever lay a hand on her body without permission if I was around. Damien knows all too well how I react to sexual assault.
Soren was born because our mother raped our father. I mean, we got Soren, but that's not the point. It's wrong, and I'll kill anyone I see ever attempt it or try to hurt the people I love. Rape is wrong, and everyone in the mafia crime world dies if they commit it.
A mundane should have no exceptions. Death should come to them, too—and it will. Resting my head against Hanna's neck, I close my eyes. Nobody will ever hurt her like that again.
They'll have to go through me, and they won't make it before they're dead. My eyes flutter as I fall asleep, my arms wrapped around Hanna.