Page 81 of Crew
He snarled again and lifted his arm. He was going to backhand me. I braced myself, ready to fall out of his way and punch that rock up into his side, but before I could, before he could--another roar came from the crowd.
Suddenly someone grabbed Alex, hurling him away from me.
I stood, panting, my vision blurred. I was close to passing out. I felt it coming.
I tried to focus on who had just arrived.
The person punched Alex hard, and when Alex lifted a hand to block a second punch, he grabbed Alex's arm and bent it at an ungodly angle. A blood-curdling scream ripped from Alex's throat, stopping everyone else in their tracks.
The guy didn't waste the opening. He rounded with a strong punch. Alex crumbled to the floor, and the guy turned to face the rest of the group. They closed in before I could see who it was, but I looked around. My crew wasn't here. I didn't see any of Channing's...
I looked again, blinking and trying to see. I almost fell, so I grabbed hold of my Jeep's door and hauled myself in. This guy was fighting all of them at once. I couldn't tell who was winning, but then four trucks sped down the driveway and veered right for us.
Zellman and Cross were in the back of Jordan's truck. Before he even came to a total stop, they launched themselves out and were on some of the Ryerson crew. Jordan wasn't far behind, literally lifting one of the guys up and throwing him to the ground.
Channing was in one of the other trucks, and he paused as he exited. He scanned the mess, saw me, and as his crew waded in, he came my way.
It hadn't been Channing who attacked Alex, or my crew.
In that moment I knew who it was, and I tried to stand again, but my knees gave out.
Channing scooped me up in time, putting me back in my Jeep. "Are you okay?"
I grunted, pushing him away. "I'll be fine." He didn't budge. I shoved at him again. "Go! They need help."
Channing grinned crookedly at me. "I think it's probably over alre--"
Another scream sounded, and the fighting stopped. People shuffled backward, clearing out and revealing Alex on the ground. My knife protruded from his leg, and he rocked back and forth, trying to pull it out.
Race stood over him, bloodied, sweating, and bruised. His shirt was ripped, and parts of his jeans had been torn away.
He knelt, ignoring everyone, and reached for the knife. He leaned close, saying something to his cousin. Alex sucked in a savage breath, freezing, and Race yanked my knife out. A sickening groan came from Alex as he seemed to wither into a little ball.
Wiping the blade off on his jeans, Race came over to Channing and me.
The crews started to separate. Alex's crew picked him up and carried him away. My guys came over, and Cross stepped right in front of me, ignoring Channing and whoever else was there. He scanned me up and down, looking for injuries. Jordan and Zellman were right next to us, doing the same.
"Shit, Bren." Jordan shook his head, looking harried. "You scared the goddamn life out of me."
"Our normal shit seems petty, huh?"
He laughed, broken. "Yeah. Petty is one word for it. You okay?"
I nodded, but hissed when Cross touched one of my ribs. It was a soft prod, but it was still a prod. It hurt like a motherfucker.
Cross didn't care. He was still assessing.
Most of Channing's crew had gone back to their vehicles, but they lingered there, waiting for instructions.
Channing turned to me, nodding to Race. "Who's that?"
"The guy who gave you a ride to Jordan's that one night."
Channing's eyebrow rose. "That's the same guy?"
Race stopped next to us. He held my knife out. "Lose this?"
"Thanks." I took it, putting it back into my pocket. It didn't feel right not having it there. "I came to find you."
