Page 61 of Lavender and Lightning

Luc: Okay, that’s a lot.

Luc: Rhett is freaking out. Can you call him?

I’m about to type out a response when there’s a heavy slam of something against the driver’s side door. My head whips up, and the scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. I’m staring into the wild eyes of a face I haven’t thought about in months. His buzz cut has grown out a little, but the feral rage in those coal-black eyes is something I’ll never forget. Davis, the worker who was fired from the Old Town awning repair job after he came into Wila’s and harassed me, is throwing his fists into the driver’s door, screaming wordlessly as he tries to get to me.

I’ve seen an alpha rage twice before in my life. The first was when I was a child and my father found out that my brothers and I were playing on the railroad tracks that ran near our home and only barely avoided being hit by a passing train. He laid into Sam and Adam, the ones who should have been old enough to know how dangerous that was, while leaving Jason and me out of it, but I’ll never forget the way his face transformed into something out of a horror movie.

The second time was the night Darren proposed and then tried to force a bond on me for the last time. When he dug his teeth into my skin and ripped out chunks of flesh that I’m still missing to this day. When I was sure that he would kill me, or make me wish I was dead. There was no reasoning with him, no trying to fight back. I only survived because I didn’t try to escape before he passed out.

And now, looking at Davis's nearly purple face as his fists come down on the window over and over, I see that madness in him. It’s visceral. The raw, truly feral need to fight and kill and maim until the bloodlust can be satisfied. There are officers shouting at him to stop, some advancing with their guns drawn, but no one seems to be making any moves to stop him. Do they not see that he’s not going to listen?

I try to move as far away as I can, scrambling to press my back into the door behind me. I want to run, but leaving this vehicle would get me closer, not farther away. I know I can’t outrun him, and I can’t win in a fight. So I do the thing my instincts demand: I tuck my chin and loll my head to the side, exposing my neck in submission. I let my arms go limp at my sides, trying to make myself as meek and small as possible. I feel the tears on my face, but I don’t make any moves to wipe them away. The first crack of glass makes me flinch.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”

The roar makes my head jerk up again, and Caleb’s wrestling Davis away from the door, arms around his neck in a chokehold. Davis fights back, thrashing until he lands an elbow to Caleb’s side. Caleb gasps and loosens his hold enough for Davis to turn and break away, throwing wild punches in rapid succession. I can only watch in horror as Caleb blocks each blow, taking two solid hits to his head before he can get his arms up. The senseless roaring coming out of Davis’s throat seems to go on forever, but then suddenly Caleb springs like a cobra. His fist flies out and catches Davis’s chin with one solid blow, and it’s enough to daze the raging alpha. Caleb punches again, a massive right hook that hits solidly against the side of Davis’s head, knocking him out cold.

It’s over in seconds, but my heart still races like a rabbit in a trap. The police swarm Davis as he lies face down on the pavement, cuffing him before he can regain consciousness. They drag him over to a squad car, one officer staying back to talk to Caleb. I can’t make out the words, but Caleb sways, holding his head with one hand. It’s that sign of distress that finally lets me regain control of my body, and I scramble to unlock the door and run around the front of the car.

“Lydia, I told—”

“Are you okay?” I ask frantically, speaking over him.

“Headache, but I’ll be fine. You should really—”

“Ma’am, are you Lydia Anderson?”

Caleb and I both turn to the officer, and my shoulders bunch as I wait for the vitriol I’ve gotten so used to hearing from anyone who asks that question.

“Why? What’s your business?” Caleb answers, taking a step to put himself between me and the officer.

“We found a file in the suspect’s car, and it has your name all over it,” the young man goes on.

I blink, stunned. “A file?”

The officer nods. “We were doing a search right before Mr. Fischer…” The officer trails off, waving a hand vaguely in the air. “We’re going to take him down to the station, but we’d like to discuss what sort of charges you’d like to press.”

“We need to speak with her prime alpha and her lawyer. We’ll be in touch,” Caleb says sternly, before I have time to recover.

The officer nods, handing Caleb a business card before going back to speak with the other officers. I turn back to my bodyguard to see that he has a split lip, and a bruise is forming on the side of his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” I ask softly.

Caleb shakes his head, but then winces. “It’ll just be me wasting six hours for the doctors to tell me to go home and rest. So, let’s just cut out that step. I know this is going to be a lot, but I’m not sure it’s safe for me to drive right now. Do you think you…”

My eyes go wide as I look up into his face. His gray eyes are hazy with pain I know he’s fighting not to show. I have no idea where we are, and how long it would take for Rhett or Lucas to find us, and then there would still be the problem of an extra vehicle. I swallow the fear building in my chest. He needs me, and I can do this. I take another deep breath before nodding once. No time like the present to conquer this hurdle.

twenty-six

Lucas

Lydi: I’m driving Caleb back to his house. Can you or Rhett come pick me up?

Me: Sure thing, sweetheart. See you soon.

“She’stakingherbodyguardhome. I guess there was a bit of a scuffle and he got knocked around a bit,” I explain as I feel Rhett’s eyes boring into the side of my head.

“Wait, she is driving? What the fuck is that fucker thinking?” Rhett exclaims, each word louder and more Irish than the last.

---