Page 174 of Rebel Hawke

“No.”

I’m not about to waste my time providing any other explanation.

Every second I spend away from Wren feels like another year added to my sentence in this prison I’ve been in since our argument, since she said those words that destroyed me and ripped my heart in two.

I climb between the ropes and leap down to the front row, where the entire family stands, waiting to congratulate me. Dad, Mom, Astrid, Uncle Savage and Danika, Kennedy and Cass, Uncle Stone and Nora, Storm and Landon, Angelina and Alessandra, Caroline and Saint, and Luca and Byron—even Coen. Though he stands removed from everyone, terror in his gaze locked on me.

But my focus remains on Wren.

On getting her in my arms.

I move straight over to her and tug her up against me, burying my face against her neck. “I’m so sorry, Little Bird. I fucking love you so much.”

She accepts my embrace, squeezing me back, despite my being covered in blood and sweat—some of it not even my own.

Before she can say anything, I pull back and lift her easily. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I take her mouth as I move down the row and toward the tunnel that’ll lead me back to the changing rooms.

Someone grabs my shoulder, and I turn back to find Pope giving me a stern look.

“You have to be examined by the ring doctor, and you’re going to need stitches.”

“Am I going to bleed to death?”

Even as I ask the question, I feel blood ooze down the side of my face from my split brow.

He narrows his harsh gaze on me, looking every bit Dr. Clarke instead of my buddy, Pope.

“I didn’t think so. It can fucking wait.”

But this can’t.

She can’t.

I return my mouth to hers, my cock hardening against my groin protector even more as I kiss her. It pushes against that stupid chunk of plastic, which rubs against the apex of her thighs with each step back to the changing room.

Four Hawke Security team members fall into line around us, and when we reach the door, one of them tugs it open for me.

I drag my mouth from hers long enough to make eye contact with him. “No one gets in here. Do you understand me? No one.”

His brow furrows. “But—”

“No buts. No one.”

I step in, letting the door close behind us and glance at it.

A deadbolt gleams in the harsh fluorescent lights.

Thank fuck.

I reach over with my still-wrapped hands and throw the lock into place, ensuring we won’t be disturbed.

Wren takes my face in her soft palms, dragging my focus back to where it should be—onher. Her feather-light touch ghosts over my left eye. “You’re bleeding…”

I release a little growl. “I don’t fucking care.”

Rivers of my blood could flow right now and I wouldn’t give a single fuck.

All that need vibrating through me seeks an outlet.

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