Page 57 of Hammer

“Sons you beat,” Hammer said, his voice dropping lower.“Sons you terrified.Sons who flinch when a door slams or a voice raises.”He took another step toward Piston.“Not anymore.”

Piston’s eyes flicked to me.“This your plan, Amelia?Replace me with this old bastard?You think he can protect you?Protect my boys?”

Before I could answer, Hammer moved again -- another of those lightning-fast movements that belied his age.His fist connected with Piston’s stomach, doubling him over.As Piston gasped for breath, Hammer gripped the back of his neck, forcing him to look up.

“Those boys aren’t yours,” he growled.“Not anymore.They’re mine now.Under my protection.Under my roof.”

Something cold and desperate flashed across Piston’s face -- the look of a man realizing he might be outmatched.He straightened, shoving Hammer’s hand away, his body tensing for a fight.

“We’ll see about that,” he snarled.

And then he lunged at Hammer, all restraint abandoned.

Piston charged like a bull, all rage and no technique, the way he’d always fought -- the way he’d always hit me.Brutal, full of fury, meant to overwhelm with sheer force.Hammer, though, didn’t move.He stood his ground, waited until Piston was just within reach, then pivoted slightly, using Piston’s own momentum to send him crashing into my car.The metal dented with a sickeningcrunch.I should have worried about the damage, about how I’d explain it, about the cost of repairs I couldn’t afford.Instead, I felt nothing but a cold satisfaction seeing the man who’d terrorized me for years sprawled against the vehicle, momentarily stunned by his own violence turned against him.

Piston recovered quickly, spinning around with a roar.This time he swung with more precision, a right hook aimed at Hammer’s jaw.Hammer blocked it with his forearm, the impact making a dullthudthat echoed in the empty parking lot.His counter was swift -- a sharp jab to Piston’s ribs followed by an uppercut that snapped Piston’s head back.

Blood sprayed from Piston’s nose, dark droplets splattering across the asphalt.I pressed myself against the side of the car, unable to look away, my heart hammering against my ribs.I’d seen Piston fight before -- had been on the receiving end of his violence more times than I could count -- but I’d never seen him matched like this.Never seen someone who could absorb his rage and return it with such controlled precision.

“Stay down,” Hammer warned as Piston stumbled backward, blood streaming from his nose and split lip.“You get one chance to walk away.”

But Piston had never known when to stop.It was what made him so dangerous -- that inability to back down, to admit defeat.He spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement and lunged again.

This time, Hammer met him head-on.Their bodies collided with a sound like a car crash, both men grunting with the impact.Piston landed a glancing blow to Hammer’s temple, but Hammer absorbed it, delivering three rapid punches to Piston’s midsection that left him gasping.When Piston doubled over, Hammer brought his knee up into his face.

More blood.More of that sickening crack of bone against bone.

I should have been horrified by the violence.Should have been screaming for them to stop, calling for help, doing something other than standing frozen, watching as these two men tore at each other -- one from my past, one from my present, fighting over a future that hung in the balance.

But I couldn’t move.Couldn’t speak.Could only watch as Hammer systematically dismantled the man who had haunted my nightmares for years.

Piston went down again, harder this time, his body making a wetsmackagainst the pavement.Blood pooled beneath his head, black in the dim light of the parking lot.For a moment, I thought it might be over -- that he’d finally stay down, finally accept defeat.

Then he rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on one elbow, his face a mask of blood and hatred.“You think you’ve won?”he wheezed, spitting out what looked like a tooth.“This is nothing.I’ve got brothers who’ll --”

Hammer silenced him with a kick to the ribs that flipped Piston onto his back.Not full force -- I could tell Hammer was holding back -- but enough to drive the air from Piston’s lungs.

“Stay down,” Hammer repeated, his voice eerily calm despite the violence of his actions.“Last warning.”

Blood bubbled between Piston’s lips as he laughed -- a wet, choking sound that raised the hairs on my arms.“You can’t protect them forever, old man.Those are my boys.My blood.”

Hammer’s expression hardened, the lines of his face deepening in the harsh glow of the neon sign.He reached down, grabbing a fistful of Piston’s shirt, and hauled him partially off the ground.

“Like I said, those boys are mine now,” he said, each word precise and measured despite the exertion of the fight.“You come near my family again, and you won’t walk away.I’m giving you one chance to leave this place and never come back.Not for you, but for them.”

Family.The word echoed in my chest, spreading warmth despite the chill of the night and the violence I’d just witnessed.Hammer hadn’t just said my boys or Amelia’s sons.He’d said my family.Claimed us all.

Piston’s bloodied lips twisted in a grotesque approximation of a smile.“She’s not worth the trouble,” he sneered, eyes flickering to me.“Never was.But those are my sons, and no piece of paper, no old man playing hero changes that.”

Hammer’s response was immediate, his grip on Piston’s shirt tightening until the fabric began to tear.“They’re not your sons anymore,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl that made my skin prickle.“They’re mine.”

He released Piston then, letting him fall back to the pavement with athud.

Piston lay there, chest heaving, blood still seeping from various cuts on his face.For the first time since I’d known him, he looked genuinely afraid -- not of pain or physical damage, but of something deeper.The loss of control.The realization that his threats no longer held power.

In the distance, I heard the distinctive rumble of motorcycles -- multiple engines growing louder by the second.Hammer didn’t turn to look, but a grim satisfaction flickered across his face.

“Hear that?”he asked, still standing over Piston.“Those are my brothers.Any minute now, this parking lot’s going to be full of Dixie Reapers who’d be happy to continue this conversation if you’re still here.”

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