Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Wait In The Truck
Cheyenne
Maverick moved with a lethal grace and ferocity I’d never seen before.
He still possessed that same level of quiet confidence, that surety, but it was more than that.
He didn’t move just like a guy who knew how to brawl.
He knew how to fight. How to punch, how to duck and deflect. In fact, all the boys did.
And, goddamn, that right hook of his…
Charlie squeezed my hand tightly, a gasp falling from her lips as Ryder took a nasty hit to the ribs, but he didn’t even bat an eye as he dove back into the fray, swinging.
My gaze snapped back to Maverick. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was no stranger to scrapping every now and then—courtesy of my big mouth and not always knowing when to quit—but this wasn’t a scrap.
To Nate’s credit, he hung in longer than I’d expected.
I’d thought he’d have gone down after that first right hook.
He was hurting, that much was apparent. Barely hanging in there, but he hadn’t given up yet.
Blood flowed from his nose, his mouth, one of his eyes already puffy and swelling shut.
He spit at Maverick, spraying spittle and blood through the air.
Maverick swiped at his face, a growl of frustration escaping him.
But that’s all it took.
Nate used that moment to take a cheap shot at him, hitting Maverick square in the jaw, rocking him back. My breath caught in my chest, my heart skipping entirely.
Please be okay. Please be okay. I squeezed Charlie’s hand as panic settled around me like a cloud of smoke.
It seeped into my lungs, stealing whatever little bit of breath I had left.
But then a warm hand settled on my shoulder, and I glanced up long enough to find Bad at my side.
He didn’t meet my gaze, but it’s like he knew I needed the silent support all the same.
His gaze was glued to the fight. I’d hoped him and Violet wouldn’t have noticed the altercation.
Would he step in? Would he stop the fight?
A part of me wanted him to. Wanted him to stop this before it went any further and someone got seriously hurt.
But Bad had been known for his temper in his rodeoing days, and he didn’t seem the type of man to break up a fight.
He was the type to see it through and finished.
Something shifted in Maverick. Something dark and angry and vicious—the tension in his shoulders, the harsh, brutal lines of his face, the severe look in his gaze…
Nate didn’t have a chance.
Maverick struck. Hard enough to send Nate staggering back before hitting him once more. Nate’s legs gave out and he toppled to the floor. But Maverick didn’t stop as he knelt over him and struck again. And again. And again.
I cringed at the sound of those punches.
At the force in his hits. Nate’s head lolled, but Maverick kept going.
All the while, a mixture of awe and horror swelled up inside me.
Awe, because I’d only ever seen a fight that intense in a damn movie, but horror, because it was so much worse in real life.
He was taking it too far. Losing himself in the fight.
It’s like a light switch had gone off in him.
Maverick—the voice of reason, the one with the level head, the one who never lost his temper—was gone.
This…this was the beast that lurked beneath the surface.
The monster his father’s violence and abuse created.
I didn’t give a damn what happened to Nate, but I could only imagine what damage it would do to Maverick if he went too far.
Cash was there all of a sudden. Had he dealt with the guy he’d been fighting?
I honestly hadn’t even noticed. He grabbed Maverick by the shoulder, muttering something I couldn’t hear over the commotion from the onlookers, but it’s like Maverick was gone.
He shoved at Cash, swinging a fist his way.
Cash caught it in the shoulder, a loud curse escaping him.
Maverick didn’t even miss a beat as he turned his wild gaze back on a barely struggling Nate.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
He couldn’t keep going. As much of a piece of shit Nate was, I didn’t want his blood on Maverick’s hands. His death. That’s where we were headed. I could feel it, the dread of it all coiling in me tighter and tighter, turning my stomach into a roiling sea of despair.
Maverick wasn’t the type to let something like this slide. He wouldn’t stop until he’d finished.
I grabbed Bad’s arm. “Stop him. Please.”
If anyone could do it, it was him.
Bad’s hazel gaze met mine for a moment before he stepped forward. It’s almost like time stopped. Ryder and the guy he fought came to a standstill, both of them backing off to watch Bad storm for Maverick. Cash rubbed at his shoulder, watching his dad with an intensity he rarely showed.