Page 8 of Victorious: Part I

Suddenly, two strong sets of arms wrap around me from behind, capturing me in their grasp. Javier lets out a delirious laugh as my legs instantly kick up to try and free myself from the hold his two goons have on me.Fuck, these bastards are strong.

“Let me go, you fuckers!” I scream, my eyes meeting Nighthawk across the room as she inches toward Livvy.

My fighting stops, my heart rate instantly spiking as I watch my protégé moving toward Livvy with a blade in her hand. My instincts kick in. Everything inside me fights like hell to get to Livvy now. My right hand breaks loose, slamming it into the face of the goon on my left.

“Livvy!” I scream, still fighting like hell.

Javier’s booming laughter floods the meat packing hall, echoing off the walls like a villain in a damn Bond movie, while my eyes land on Nighthawk. She inches closer and closer to Livvy.

The goons continue to struggle to restrain me. I slam my fist into each of them continuously while I rampage to get to her. “Nighthawk. Stop!” I scream, causing her to pause momentarily. Her blade hesitates over Livvy’s ring finger.

Her eyes meet mine just as one of his goons slams his fist in my face so hard I drop to my knee with the force of the hit.

“Stay down!” he growls.

I shake my head to try and stop it from swirling. But seeing Nighthawk move her blade to Livvy’s finger, I stand to my feet and start running.

Livvy’s scream pierces through the building, and just as I’m about to pounce on Nighthawk, arms wrap around me again, pulling me against a hard body. A stabbing sensation against my neck causes me to wince, and instantly, my cognitive function starts to deteriorate.

“No, n-no!” I mumble before the goon lets me go, my body rapidly dropping to the floor, my legs giving out. My hand weakly slides to my neck, feeling where the fucker injected me with something as I fall completely to the floor, right beside Livvy.

Barely breathing, unable to speak or move…

Or help.

But I can hear everything.

Javier’s obnoxious laughter.

Nighthawk’s equipment as she continues her assault on Livvy.

And the screaming.

So much screaming.

My breathing is labored, my vision fading in and out, and the last thing I see is Livvy’s ring finger falling to the floor, right beside my head, before everything goes black.

Chapter Three

MONTANA

The low growl of my Harley shatters the morning stillness as I pull into the prison’s visitor lot. I’ve made this ride more times than I can count, but the weight in my chest never lessens—guilt, rage, and the hollow ache of injustice all tangle together.

Mom is in there because ofme.

Because she fought back.

Because she killed the man who would have killed us both.

And the system, blind and merciless, locked her away instead of saving her.

I drag in a breath, my gaze settling on the cold, gray walls ahead—a building with no soul yet filled with more suffering than it could ever contain.

My jaw tightens.

My pulse kicks up.

I force myself to move, killing the engine and swinging my leg off the bike like muscle memory. Helmet in one hand, I rake the other through my red hair, trying to steady the storm inside me.

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