Page 15 of Ghost's Revenge
This time, one of those men must go through me first.
This time, I’ll get my revenge before it’s too late.
Chapter 6 - Debbie
I've never been so grateful to see another human being in my entire life.
Derek stands on the porch steps like a wall of muscle and leather, his presence transforming everything about this moment. Suddenly David doesn't seem as big, as threatening, as inevitable as he did thirty seconds ago. Suddenly I'm not alone, facing down the man who made my life hell for over a year.
"Actually," Derek says, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that makes David take an unconscious step back, "what she wants is the only thing that matters here. And from where I'm standing, it looks like she wants you to leave."
I can see faces in the windows behind David.
Maria, Jessica, even Sarah peering out from her office. They're all watching, all holding their breath, all remembering their own versions of this confrontation. But none of their stories ended with a six-foot-four biker stepping between them and danger.
David's face is flushed red with anger and humiliation, his hands clenched so tight his knuckles are white. I know that look. I've seen it hundreds of times, right before he—
"Fine," David says suddenly, his voice taking on a tone I don't recognize. Almost reasonable. Almost defeated. "Fine, you want to play house with damaged goods, be my guest. But this isn't over, Debbie. Tyler's my son, and I have rights."
He turns away from Derek and starts walking down the porch steps, and for one wild moment I think it's actually going to be that easy. That he's going to leave and Derek won't have to hurt anyone and Tyler can wake up to a morning where his father isn't screaming at his mother on the front porch.
But I know David better than that.
I see the moment he decides to turn back, see the way his shoulders tense and his stride changes. See him reach into his jacket pocket and pull out something metal that catches the early morning light.
"Derek!" I scream.
But Derek is already moving, already turning, like he expected this. Like he knows men like David better than I thought possible.
David lunges up the porch steps with what looks like a knife, his face twisted with rage and desperation. "You want her so bad? You can fucking have her!"
What happens next is like watching a nature documentary—a predator taking down prey with efficient, brutal precision. Derek doesn't look surprised or scared or even particularly angry. He just... handles it.
He sidesteps David's wild swing so casually it looks choreographed, then grabs David's wrist and twists. The knife clatters to the porch floor as David screams, the sound high and pained and nothing like the confident man who was threatening me thirty seconds ago.
Derek doesn't stop there.
His free hand drives into David's stomach, doubling him over and driving all the air from his lungs. Then Derek's knee comes up, connecting with David's face with a sound like a baseball bat hitting a watermelon. Blood explodes from David's nose as he staggers backward, but Derek follows him, relentless as a force of nature.
"Stop," David gasps, holding up his hands. "Please, I—"
Derek's fist connects with his jaw and David goes down hard, his head bouncing off the porch railing with another sickening sound. He tries to get up, gets to his hands and knees, and Derek puts his boot on David's back and pushes him down again.
"Stay down," Derek says, and his voice is completely calm. Like this is just another Tuesday morning. Like destroying a man who threatened his family—
His family?
"You came here to hurt a woman and her child," Derek continues. "You brought a weapon. You threatened violence against people under my protection." He increases the pressure on David's back, and David whimpers. "That makes you a threat that needs to be eliminated."
"Derek." The word comes out as barely a whisper, but somehow he hears me. His head turns toward me, and for a moment I see something wild and dangerous in his dark eyes. Something that recognizes me but isn't entirely human.
Then it passes, and he's Derek again. Gentle Derek who taught Tyler to throw a baseball and calls me ma'am and moves slowly so he won't scare anyone.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, his boot still pinning David to the porch floor.
"I'm... no. I'm okay." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware that I'm standing on the front porch in my pajamas while my ex-husband bleeds at my feet. "Is he...?"
"He's breathing. He'll live." Derek looks down at David with something like disappointment. "But he won't be coming back."
