Page 33 of Siren's Salvation

The sound of flesh on flesh echoes in the night air as the girl's hand connects with Shiver's face.

The slap is cold, fueled by heat and humiliation.

I watch as darkness floods Shiver's eyes, anger pooling in those depths like spilled ink.

My heart rate quickens.

I don't know Shiver well, but I know enough about the club to understand that he wouldn't dare put a hand on a woman, no matter how pissed off he is.

It's an unspoken rule, a line that doesn't get crossed.

But I'm not bound by those rules.

Before I can second-guess myself, I lunge forward.

My hand wraps around the girl's throat, and I slam her against the wall of the clubhouse.

The impact rattles through my arm, but I don't loosen my grip.

"You don't have any fuckin' respect," I hiss, my face inches from hers. "You can't just put your hands on someone who belongs to the club."

The girl's eyes widen, a mix of fear and defiance swirling in them. "Get your hands off me, you crazy bitch," she spits out.

Something snaps inside me.

Maybe it's the exhaustion from the day, or the pent-up frustration I've been carrying.

Whatever it is, it drives me to do something I never thought I'd do.

“Oh, keep callin’ me crazy. I love that shit.”

With a swift, violent motion, I bite down on one of my acrylic nails, breaking it off.

I bite down on every single one because I’m ready to fucking fight.

Hell, it’s going to end up being therapeutic for me.

I let my fists do the talking.

I'm vaguely aware of the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the girl's cries turning to whimpers.

I see the blood before I feel it on my knuckles, her split lip a vibrant crimson against her pale skin.

"Siren, stop!" Shiver's voice finally breaks through the red haze of my anger.

His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the bloodied girl.

As I struggle against his grip, I catch sight of Cobra stepping out of the clubhouse, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

The acrid smell of smoke mingles with the metallic scent of blood in the air.

My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, the adrenaline slowly fading away.

Cobra takes a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

A smirk plays across his lips as he exhales a cloud of smoke. "Shit, this is like the good ol' days!"

"Shut up," Shiver growls, his grip on me still firm.

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