“Looked like she was trying to get away from him, which is why I yelled out instead of pulling up a chair to watch.”

I’m not in the mood for his jokes. I grunt at him and turn my gaze on Stitch.

Stitch may only be a prospect, but he speaks up and shows no fear. “She punched him in the balls, Prez. Unless that’s his fucked-up version of foreplay, it looked to me like he attacked her.”

“Fuck you, prospect,” Shadow spits. “She ain’t patched.”

“That’s the excuse you’re going with?” Rooster shakes his head. “You do remember her being introduced to everyone in this clubhouse as his old lady, right?”

“Nah, Shadow here thought he’d get even with me for telling him he can’t do whatever the fuck he wants to the girls around here, didn’t ya, bro?” I ask.

The corner of his mouth curls up.

“Too much of a coward to come at me directly, right?” I shift Lilly to the side and behind me a second before Shadow launches himself at my midsection.

The hit to the gut drives me back a few feet.

From the corner of my eye, I see Teller hustling Lilly away.

Now it’s on.

I shove Shadow back and take up a better stance.

His fist comes flying at me and I easily duck it.

“Get him, brother,” Murphy says from behind me, his signal that he has my back and no one will interfere.

Confident this won’t take long, I throw some of my own punches. A sweet burn rips through my knuckles as I collide with Shadow’s cheek.

Something crunches under my fist, but I don’t take a second to enjoy it.

I weave in closer and take two more shots. One to his face. One to the chest.

Shadow’s a bit smaller than me, but mostly muscle and a strong motherfucker. I don’t buy it when he stays down.

A few seconds later, he comes at me, attempting to slam his skull into my chin. I avoid that hit, but the momentum takes both of us to the floor.

Shadow lands a shot to my jaw and my head bounces off the rough carpet.

That’s enough of that.

Adrenaline rockets through my veins. Wrapping my legs around his torso, I twist and flip us where I can pound the ever-loving shit out of him.

I might not have visited Wrath at the new and improved Furious Fitness for lessons recently, but years of that big bastard tossing me around the ring in the name of “training” doesn’t fade overnight.

Blood sprays from his mouth and nose, coating my chin and dripping down the front of my shirt. Still, I don’t slow down.

No, I’m just gettin’ started.

No one touches my girl.

Shadow twists to the left.

Yeah, I’d duck these shots too.