Page 6 of Hatter

I edged closer, peeking around the corner. My breath caught in my throat as I saw them -- five guys, all covered in ink. I thought a few looked like gang-related symbols. I’d seen that same tag around town in a few spots. They surrounded a man who tried to fight back, but he was outnumbered and outmatched.

Had they been following me too and that person got in the way? Or had he been their intended victim? Even if I asked, it was doubtful they’d tell me the truth. Not that I really wanted to have a conversation with them.

Jo, what the hell are you doing? Not your business. A sweat broke out on my skin. I should turn and run, get out before they noticed me. But something inside me kept me rooted to the spot.

I couldn’t just sit back and watch. I’d feel like an accomplice if I didn’t at least try to do something.

“Get off him!” I yelled, my words loud and sharp. My legs shook, but I stepped out of hiding, standing tall and holding my chin up. I hoped like hell they didn’t realize I was scared.

“Who the fuck is this?” one of them sneered, looking me over like some piece of trash he was about to throw away.

“Leave him alone,” I said again, my voice coming out a little steadier. “Or I swear to God, you’ll regret it.”

The one who seemed to be in charge eyed me, and for some reason, it felt like he might know who I was. There was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see me.

I really hoped they wouldn’t call my bluff. Even I knew I didn’t stand a chance against them. Hell, I’d hidden from the drunks who couldn’t even walk straight. Now I was taking on gang members? It really wasn’t my night.

“Fuck off,” another one snapped. They looked at each other, clearly not sure what to do. They hadn’t thought anyone would interfere, and now I was a complication they hadn’t anticipated.

Which meant I had a chance to make a difference. No one ever stepped in to save me, but maybe I could help this one person. I didn’t know if it would matter in the grand scheme of things. At least I would know I’d tried.

“Run!” I shouted at the guy they’d been beating on. He looked up, blood streaming down his face. I saw the hesitation in his eyes, but then he gave a brisk nod and scampered up off the ground. Without even so much as a glance back, he took off, running like a bat out of hell. I kept my gaze locked on the men. Putting myself between them and the man they were beating hadn’t been my greatest idea, but I hadn’t seen another way to handle it. Ignoring the situation hadn’t been an option.

Relief flooded me for a moment. I’d done it! I’d actually managed to help someone. The irony wasn’t lost on me, since I hadn’t been able to save myself for so many years.

The group of men eyed me, anger blazing in their eyes. Yeah, I hadn’t thought about this part. I could run, but I had a feeling they’d catch me. I may very well have dug my own grave. Either way, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Think you’re a fucking hero, huh?” one of them snarled, his fists clenched tight.

No, I wasn’t a hero. I’d just wanted to give that poor man a fighting chance. No one deserved to be beaten like that. My heart raced as I prepared to either stand my ground or take off running. But without a place to hide, it wouldn’t do me much good.

“Big mistake, bitch,” one of them said, stepping closer to me.

My gaze darted around the alley, looking for anything that could give me an edge, a way to survive. That’s when I spotted it -- a broken bottle glinting in the dim light. I grabbed it without hesitation, brandishing it like a weapon. Better than nothing at all.

“Come on, then.” I hoped they couldn’t tell how terrified I felt right now. Maybe if I pretended to be brave, then it would make them hesitate.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” one of them said with a twisted grin. “This should be fun.”

Fun? Shit. These men weren’t going to let me off easy. In fact, they might be worse than my ex. Why hadn’t I just minded my own business? I’d survived before, and I would this time too. Whatever came my way, I’d keep getting back up. The day I decided to stay down was the day I knew I’d die. And I wasn’t ready for that yet.

My grip tightened on the broken bottle as the first one lunged at me, his fist aiming for my face. I dodged to the side and jabbed the glass into his arm. He roared in pain, blood gushing from the wound.

“Fucking bitch!” he screamed, clutching his arm.

“I don’t want to fight all of you. I just want to be on my way.”

One of them spat on the ground, sizing me up. “Then you should have thought of that before you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.”

He came at me, snatching a handful of my hair. The man yanked my head back, and I reached for his hand, sinking my nails into his skin. He hauled back his other hand and slapped me across the face. My ears rang, and my cheek felt like it was on fire.

I slashed at him with the broken bottle, slicing up his stomach and anywhere else I could reach. He finally released me, just in time for another to step in. I kept swinging, doing my best to hold them off. Blood spattered the alley walls and the ground.

My head ached, and I could feel my energy waning. If I didn’t find a way to run them off or ditch them, then they’d get the upper hand. It wouldn’t be long now before I dropped.

I slashed the next one across the cheek. He screamed and fell back against the wall.

A siren sounded in the distance. “Stupid cunt isn’t worth it,” one of the men said, glancing over his shoulder. “But we know what you look like, and we’ll be watching. When you least expect it, we’ll snatch you up and give you a night you won’t forget.”

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