Page 20 of Dad Bod's Daring December

That’s my opening.

I move fast, grabbing the heavy iron fire poker from the hearth. It’s not a gun, but it’s enough. Razor barely has time to react before I swing, the iron bar connecting with his wrist. The gun clatters to the floor, and I lunge, kicking it across the room and out of his reach.

“Son of a bitch!” Razor roars, cradling his wrist.

He recovers quickly, coming at me with a wild swing. I dodge, using the poker to deflect his next attack, but the force of it sends me staggering back a step.

Before I can recover, Rebecca throws herself onto my back, her nails digging into my neck. She claws at me with a feral desperation, screaming incoherent insults.

I grit my teeth and shift my weight, throwing Rebecca off with enough force to send her sprawling. But the distraction costs me—Razor scrambles toward the gun, his movements quick and panicked.

“No!” Ember’s voice rings out, sharp and commanding.

I whip my head around to see her snatching the gun off the floor and leveling it at Razor’s head, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “Don’t come any closer.”

The fuckwit who dragged Ember outside staggers in. Deep scratches mark the right side of his face and neck, and a small pair of scissors is embedded in his right thigh—the scissors Ember used earlier on those godawful ribbons. God, I love this woman. My brave little Firefly.

Razor straightens slowly, lifting his hands in a mockery of surrender as Ember swings the gun wildly between him and Fuckwit. “Easy, sweetheart. You don’t want to do this.”

Ember doesn’t lower the gun. “Try me,” she snaps. “Get out. All of you.”

Rebecca stumbles to her feet, her face pale and furious. “You’re making a big mistake, girl. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“No,” Ember replies, her voice steadying. “You don’t know whoyou’redealing with. Get the fuck out.”

Razor’s jaw tightens, but he steps back, raising his hands higher. “Fine,” he mutters. “We’ll go. But this ain’t over.”

I move carefully toward Ember, gently taking the gun from her cold hands. “No. It’s not,” I agree, my voice as low and steady as the weapon in my hand pointed as I point it at his chest. “But if you’re smart, you’ll walk away while you still can.”

With a sharp curse, he storms out, Rebecca and Fuckwit hot on his heels.

They’re gone, leaving the house in silence.

“Edward.” Ember trembles against me.

I crush her agains t me, then pull back, my hands shaking as I cup her face. My beautiful, fierce Firefly, even with her hair mussed and eyes wide with shock. “Are you okay?”

She nods, her eyes welling with tears. “I am now.”

Relief crashes over me, and I pull her into my arms again, holding her tightly. But even as I cling to her, the weight of what just happened settles in my chest.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 10

Ember

Less than half an hour later, chaos erupts as headlights flood our sanctuary. Voices shout and tires screech as the gang returns for vengeance. Gunshots pierce the night, shattering windows and splintering wood.

“Take this,” Edward says, pressing the shotgun into my hands. The one with the oak stock and polished barrel. “It’s time to use it.”

My hands tremble as I peer out the window, the weight of the shotgun heavy in my grip. Edward is a whirl of motion beside me, his fingers deftly ejecting the spent magazine from his pistol and slamming a fresh one home. The night air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and the gut-wrenching tang of fear.

“Ember, keep your head down,” Edward commands, his voice strained but steady.

His authority clams me, holding me steady as I fight to keep my breathing even, blocking out the roaring engines and shouts outside.

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