I see her.
And I seehim.
That motherfucker has his hands on her waist, fingers digging into her flesh like he's marking territory. He's leaning in, whispering something that makes her face go pale, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal searching for escape. She looks terrified, and something primal inside me snaps like a steel cable under tension.
"Oh, fuck," Jay mutters beside me, voice taut as a bowstring.
I don't hear the rest. The world narrows to a tunnel, red bleeding into the edges of my vision. Pure, unfiltered rage surges through my veins like liquid fire, and before I can think, I'm moving through the crowd like a bullet finding its target.
Evan barely has time to look up before I rip him away from her. He stumbles back, expensive shoes squeaking on polished floor, and I don't give him a chance to recover. My fist connects with his face with a sickening crack that reverberates up my arm, the impact sending shockwaves through both our bodies.
"You have some fucking nerve touching her," I growl, voice low and lethal as a blade against throat. Blood drips from his split lip, staining his perfect white teeth as he staggers.
"Touch her again," my voice drops even lower, promising violence, "and I'll break every fucking bone in your body, twice."
Instead of backing down, he smirks through the blood. "Enjoy my seconds, Sullivan. She's a little too soft for my taste, but still fun."
The words barely register before everything goes red. My fist finds his jaw again, harder this time, bone meeting bone with a sound like thunder. He stumbles into a group of people, sending drinks and shouts flying, but nothing exists except him and the rage burning through my veins like acid.
"Nate, don’t!" Nora's voice cuts through the chaos like a knife, desperate and shaky as autumn leaves, but I can't stop.
I tackle him through the coffee table and glass shatters beneath us. He groans as we hit the ground, shards tinkling like broken wind chimes around us. I pin him down, each punch fueled by the fear I saw in Nora's eyes and his smug expression I want to permanently erase. His hands flail uselessly against me, but I'm relentless. One punch after another, each impact sending jolts through my knuckles that I barely register.
"Stop it!" Nora's voice pierces through the red haze, but it barely reaches through the roar of blood in my ears.
A hand yanks me back and I twist, ready to swing. A punch lands on my jaw, sending me stumbling, copper flooding my mouth.
Fucking Connor.
The sight of him reignites the fire in my veins. He throws another punch that cuts through air like a blade. I duck, feeling it whistle past, then counter with a shot to his ribs. He doubles over, grunting, before charging again.
The crowd erupts around us, a chaotic blur of shouts pulsing with the music, but it's all background noise. My focus locks on Connor, everything else fading to shadows as adrenaline narrows my world to fists and fury.
"Nate!" Jay's voice cuts through the chaos like a knife through fog. He steps between us, hands against my chest like trying to hold back a storm. Connor seizes the moment, swinging past Jay's guard. The punch lands with a sickening thud, and Jay stumbles back, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Son of a—” Jay spits red onto the floor, shaking his head. His eyes darken like storm clouds. "Oh, you're fucked now, Country Club."
Jay launches forward like a spring uncoiling, fist connecting with Connor's face. The impact sounds like thunder, sending Connor reeling into the crowd.
"Nora, wait!" Camilla's voice slices through the noise, pulling me from the red haze. My fists drop instantly as I glare at Connor and Evan through sweat and blood.
"Nate, Nora's leaving!" Camilla calls again, desperation threading through her voice.
I turn just in time to see Nora pushing through the crowd like a ghost, dark hair disappearing into the sea of bodies.
Connor sneers from the wall, wiping blood from his split lip. "Get the fuck out of here, Sullivan," he spits, crimson staining his teeth.
But I'm already moving, focused on Nora, everything else falling away. The fight, the pain, the rage—none of it matters anymore. Only she does.
"Nora!" I call after her, my voice cracking in the cold night air like ice breaking.
She doesn't stop, shoulders shaking visibly as she walks faster, pushing past people like she's trying to outrun something darker than just this night. The distance between us stretches like an endless chasm, and for the first time tonight, I feel real fear—not of fists or blood, but of losing her in ways that can't be fixed with violence.
By the time I catch up, she's leaning against the car, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she's holding something broken together. The streetlamp casts harsh shadows across her face, making her look fragile. She won't look at me, but her trembling makes my heart ache like someone's carved out something vital.
"Nora," I say again, softer now, trying to steady my breath. Adrenaline still courses through me making my bloodied hands shake, but I force myself to move slowly, carefully, like approaching a wounded bird.
When I reach for her wrist, she flinches away sharply like my touch burns. It stops me cold, her reaction cutting deeper than any punch tonight, deeper than glass or bone could reach.
