Page 43 of Cheshire

“Keep at it!” The words ripped from my throat as I slammed my fist into another face. Couldn’t think about the pain, the way my knuckles split and bled. Had to focus. Had to keep moving.

“Cheshire!”

I spun, Rabbit’s call snapping me to attention. A monstrous brute bore down on him, muscles coiled and ready to strike. Without thinking, I intercepted, tackling the giant at the knees. We hit the ground, a tangle of limbs and fury.

“Thanks.” Rabbit’s nod was short, his eyes already scanning for the next threat.

“Anytime,” I panted, rolling off the fallen enemy.

“Where’s the sheriff?” Knave’s voice cut through the noise, low and urgent.

“Back!” I pointed with a bloodied hand toward the figure watching us, his hands folded calmly behind his back. Sheriff Holmes. Always in control, even when his world was crashing down. Or maybe ours was the one being wrecked right now. It was hard to say who was winning.

“Go!” I pushed Knave toward him, even as I squared off against another attacker. “I got this!”

“Watch your six, Cheshire!” Mock called out before darting after Knave.

“Always do!” I smirked, despite the ache in my ribs, the fire in my blood. This was what we did, what we lived for. And for Eliza, who deserved a life free of the sheriff’s grasp.

The battle raged on, seeming as if it would never end.

Blood dripped from my knuckles, the taste of iron hot on my tongue. I glared at the man before me -- just another obstacle between me and the sheriff. His eyes were dead set on mine, a mirror of my own resolve. We’d been trading blows for what felt like hours, each hit a promise to keep going until only one of us was left standing.

He lunged at me, a gleam of steel catching the light. Knife. I cursed under my breath and whipped out my blade, the curved, serrated edge perfect for doing some damage. Our dance turned deadly. He was good, slicing air inches from my face, but I was better -- or at least I had more to fight for.

His blade bit into my arm, a line of fire searing through flesh. Pain screamed up my limb, but it was just noise -- background static to the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I couldn’t afford to falter, not now. Eliza’s face flashed in my mind, her smile reminding me what I was fighting for.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunted, spinning away from another strike. My voice was ragged, edged with the strain of combat.

The man sneered, circling like a shark scenting blood. He didn’t understand that every brother by my side was a reason to endure, to push past the burn in my muscles and the haze clouding my vision. That I had a sweet woman at home counting on me to put an end to this nightmare.

I parried his next attack, metal singing against metal. He was relentless, but so was I. They thought they could wear us down, take back what they believed was theirs. They didn’t know the Underland MC -- the family I’d bleed for, the love I’d die for.

“Come on, you son of a bitch,” I snarled.

“Cheshire!” Mock’s shout pierced the chaos, but I couldn’t look away, not even for a second. The battle was here, now.

My attacker pushed forward, trying to overpower me. But I stood firm.

“You’ll never take her. I’ll die before I let any of you lay a hand on her.”

The air was thick with violence. My boots slid on the grit and blood of the parking lot. I’d cut the bastard far more times than he’d gotten me, and yet he was still standing, still coming at me like a charging bull.

“Cheshire!” Knave’s voice cut through the noise, his fist connecting with some thug’s jaw in a spray of spit and blood.

“Got this!” I yelled back, ducking a wild swing meant to lay me out cold. We were outnumbered but not outmatched.

I spun, a roundhouse kick sending another one of the sheriff’s goons sprawling. He hit the pavement with a grunt, scrambling to rise. Rabbit was beside me then, a flash of silver in his hand as he took down a brute twice his size. Mock fought like a demon, a wicked laugh bursting from him each time he landed a blow.

“Watch it,” I grunted as Rabbit ducked a pipe swung at his head. These fuckers had decided to bring the heat, and they were tiring us out. Probably the plan from the start.

“Thanks, brother,” he spat, kicking the attacker’s knees out from under him.

The fight was a blur -- a mess of adrenaline and instinct. I didn’t think. I moved. Fought. Survived. Every strike I delivered was for Eliza, every block for my brothers.

Pain was just a whisper in the back of my mind, something to be acknowledged, then ignored. My sliced arm screamed with each movement, but it couldn’t drown out the roar of battle. I hadn’t survived IEDs, surprise attacks by insurgents, and all manner of other things while I’d been active duty just to lose to some damn local thugs now.

“End this shit!” I shouted, eyes scanning for Sheriff Holmes, but the fucker was nowhere in sight, his goons bearing the brunt of his cowardice.

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