Page 171 of Headstrong Like Us
Pain raking through my muscles, wrenching breath.
One of the worst slow-motion moments of my life, and then I clasp his broad shoulder and time accelerates, triggered to a 3x speed. I wrench Maximoff back, just as a knuckles slice through air. I dodge the blow and force a jab to the bridge of a nose.
Crack.
Maximoff wrestles one fucker to the road and yells, “How old are you?!”
“Get…off me!” he grunts, definitely not Italian.
“Let me at them!” Sulli yells, and out of the corner of my eye—while I kick a college-aged guy in the gut, pushing him out of Maximoff’s path—I see Banks restraining Sulli, drawing her away from the brawl.
She elbows Banks in the chest, and he quickly tosses her over his shoulder.
Akara cups her face between his hands. “It’s over, Sul.”
I’ve never seen Sullivan fight like this. In fact, there’s a time where I distinctly remember Sulli saying she’s “a lover, not a fighter.”
“They fucked with my sister,” she says through gritted teeth.
Maximoff is all hot rage, and I pull him back as another fist flies at him. I slip left, then deck this prick in the jaw with a skilled blow. He groans, three fuckers stumbling to stand. Two pry themselves off the pavement, darkness blurring their features.Deescalate this shit.
I need to detain them, but I also have to pull my stubborn hot-headed groom to safety.
Maximoff growls at a blond-haired guy. “You told fourteen-year-old girls to get naked!”
“It was a fucking joke!” another guy yells, that one sounds American. “Get afuckinggrip, you roid-raging asshole!”
“Fuck off!” I sneer through my teeth, my arm protective around Maximoff’s collarbones.
Another guy puffs out his chest. “Come at me, cocksucker!” And just then, Thatcher and Oscar run up the road, the security off-road vehicle parked in a safe distance. They didn’t come to chat.
They’re pissed. And they join the brawl, throwing skilled punches. Letting these guys eat the asphalt they requested.
I smash an elbow in a face, his nose crunches. Blood gushing out of nostrils, and I capture Maximoff’s shoulder after a set of knuckles bash his ribs. He does sink a right-hook.
We see them crumple, and Maximoff and I start pulling each other back. Last glimpse of the fight, I see Thatcher and the others pinning the guys to the ground. Oscar is zip-tying their wrists—but we’ll have to let them go. Can’t press charges unless the girls want the events of tonight to be public. It’s not happening.
The brawl is the only real justice. And I would’ve landed another kick in, if I didn’t have to protect a prince.
And that prince keeps pulling at my arm, trying to lead me towards the parked vehicle behind us. I can’t stop smiling athowhe’s trying to draw me away from the street fight.
My eyes brush over him, my smile fucking killing me.
“What?” His arm curves around my shoulder.
I hook mine around his shoulders too, but I turn us towards the vehicle, walking down casually. “The untrained fighter trying to protect the trained one.”
He’s doing his best not to smile. “I held my own, man.”
“You’re getting better,” I agree. “Still not as good as me.”
Maximoff shakes his head, his lips upturned. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m smiling right now.” He stares deeply into me. “Thanks.” His voice is encased with sincerity and love.
He acts like I lifted the weight off this night. Buthe’sthe reason this weightlessness exists inside of me, the reason I smiled in the first place, and I’m not sure he realizes it.
39
MAXIMOFF HALE
