Page 30 of Threadbound

He took another step closer, feeling Bran’s eyes on him, reading the tension in the smaller man’s body. Bran hadn’t given up—that much was clear. Jamie knew what that looked like, and Bran was ready to run or fight as he needed to.

And that meant that Bran didn’t think the fight was over.

Jamie felt his own shoulders tighten as he took another step deeper under the trees, knowing that this was a bad idea. No, aterriblefucking idea. This was how you got your ass handed to you and ended up in a hospital is what this was.

But he couldn’t walk away and leave Bran to whatever further violence they intended to inflict on him, because it was absolutely clear that they hadn’t accomplished what they’d set out to do, and, with every step, Jamie was becoming increasingly certain that a beating was only the beginning of what they’d intended.

He swallowed around the lump of fear that formed in the back of his throat, all too aware that if these three meant to kill Bran, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing to him. He really hoped that he somehow managed to get himself out of this before things got that bad, but he was starting to worry that he might not.

The man to his left moved—too fast, Jamie thought as his body reacted without consulting his brain—one long arm swinging around to strike Jamie’s head. Jamie managed somehow to get an arm in the way, wincing as a fist connected with his lower arm, jarring the bones all the way to his shoulder.

He danced backwards, trying to keep himself out of range while also not getting close enough to the woman to open himself up to another attack. Because while Jamie might have gotten decent at defending himself against his usually-drunken stepfather, he wasn’t a fighter and he definitely didn’t have much experience fending off more than one person at a time.

He had less luck with the second and third blows, managing only to deflect a hit so that it struck the side of his head instead of his face, then taking another to the ribs.

Fuck.

That onehurt. More than he expected.

He lashed out with a long leg, catching the other man on the shin and making him stagger, then stepping close enough to land a hit to the guy’s jaw as he straightened up.

In his peripheral vision, Jamie caught sight of sudden movement, which distracted him enough that he took another hit to the cheekbone and a follow-up punch to the stomach, although he saw that one coming soon enough to brace his abdomen against the strike.

Still hurt like a bitch, though.

The sound of grunting, the grating sound of scrabbling over gravel, and the sound of a fist striking flesh was followed by a gurgling sound that drew Jamie’s attention, even though he knew he should keep an eye on the guy he was fighting.

Bran had somehow freed himself, and was backing toward Jamie, the one arm still hanging down, the other holding his side, and the man who’d been holding him staggering away, his hands at his throat—he was the source of the gurgling sound. The woman looked between Jamie, Bran, and her companion, as though uncertain what to do.

The man who had attacked Jamie lunged toward Bran, and Jamie took advantage of his opponent’s shifted focus to tackle him, keeping him away from Bran.

Straddling the man’s hips, Jamie leaned his weight into an arm pressing down on the man’s throat. “If I let you up, are you going to get the fuck out of here?” he demanded, his heart thudding in his ears, shocked at his own capacity for violence.

The man hissed at him, but since his two companions were heading away from the trail and back into the neighborhoods, Jamie decided that he’d take that as a yes, pushing himself up and backing away, letting the man shove himself to his feet and follow the other two into the darkness.

Then Jamie turned to Bran, who was staring up at him with an expression that Jamie couldn’t read.

“Are—Are you okay?” he panted, reaching out a hand toward Bran.

The smaller man’s eyes were wide, the whites clearly visible around his dark green irises. Jamie watched him swallow a few times, then stagger a step.

Jamie lurched forward, grabbing Bran as he started to fall.

“Shit!”

Gravel dug into his bare knees as he knelt next to Bran on the pathway, noticing that the hand he’d put on Bran’s side was stained dark with blood. Jamie frowned, trying to figure out where Bran was bleeding from—seeing blood against his black shirt in the dark was all but impossible, so Jamie gently peeled back the fabric to see the gash against Bran’s pale skin. Then he pushed his palm against the wound, applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

Bran grimaced, and his eyelids blinked slowly, which Jamie knew wasn’t a good sign.

“Bran, you have to stay awake.”

He watched as the smaller man forced his eyes open again, the green black in the encroaching darkness. Bran swallowed, then groaned softly.

“Hey, no, no. Stay with me. Look at me.”

Dark eyes focused on his face, then slid away.

Jamie tapped Bran’s cheek gently. “No, no. Right here. Bran. Look at me, please.”

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