The person punched Alex hard, and when Alex lifted a hand to block a second punch, he grabbed Alex’s arm and bent it at an ungodly angle. A blood-curdling scream ripped from Alex’s throat, stopping everyone else in their tracks.

The guy didn’t waste the opening. He rounded with a strong punch. Alex crumbled to the floor, and the guy turned to face the rest of the group. They closed in before I could see who it was, but I looked around. My crew wasn’t here. I didn’t see any of Channing’s…

I looked again, blinking and trying to see. I almost fell, so I grabbed hold of my Jeep’s door and hauled myself in. This guy was fighting all of them at once. I couldn’t tell who was winning, but then four trucks sped down the driveway and veered right for us.

Zellman and Cross were in the back of Jordan’s truck. Before he even came to a total stop, they launched themselves out and were on some of the Ryerson crew. Jordan wasn’t far behind, literally lifting one of the guys up and throwing him to the ground.

Channing was in one of the other trucks, and he paused as he exited. He scanned the mess, saw me, and as his crew waded in, he came my way.

It hadn’t been Channing who attacked Alex, or my crew.

In that moment I knew who it was, and I tried to stand again, but my knees gave out.

Channing scooped me up in time, putting me back in my Jeep. “Are you okay?”

I grunted, pushing him away. “I’ll be fine.” He didn’t budge. I shoved at him again. “Go! They need help.”

Channing grinned crookedly at me. “I think it’s probably over alre—”

Another scream sounded, and the fighting stopped. People shuffled backward, clearing out and revealing Alex on the ground. My knife protruded from his leg, and he rocked back and forth, trying to pull it out.

Race stood over him, bloodied, sweating, and bruised. His shirt was ripped, and parts of his jeans had been torn away.

He knelt, ignoring everyone, and reached for the knife. He leaned close, saying something to his cousin. Alex sucked in a savage breath, freezing, and Race yanked my knife out. A sickening groan came from Alex as he seemed to wither into a little ball.

Wiping the blade off on his jeans, Race came over to Channing and me.

The crews started to separate. Alex’s crew picked him up and carried him away. My guys came over, and Cross stepped right in front of me, ignoring Channing and whoever else was there. He scanned me up and down, looking for injuries. Jordan and Zellman were right next to us, doing the same.

“Shit, Bren.” Jordan shook his head, looking harried. “You scared the goddamn life out of me.”

“Our normal shit seems petty, huh?”

He laughed, broken. “Yeah. Petty is one word for it. You okay?”

I nodded, but hissed when Cross touched one of my ribs. It was a soft prod, but it was still a prod. It hurt like a motherfucker.

Cross didn’t care. He was still assessing.

Most of Channing’s crew had gone back to their vehicles, but they lingered there, waiting for instructions.

Channing turned to me, nodding to Race. “Who’s that?”

“The guy who gave you a ride to Jordan’s that one night.”

Channing’s eyebrow rose. “That’s the same guy?”

Race stopped next to us. He held my knife out. “Lose this?”

“Thanks.” I took it, putting it back into my pocket. It didn’t feel right not having it there. “I came to find you.”

“Someone texted me, saying you were here. I got here as fast as I could.” He glanced at my crew, but none of the three were paying him any attention. All eyes were glued to me. He looked at my brother instead. “Hello again.”

Channing narrowed his eyes at me before turning to Race. He tipped his head back. “You gave me a ride last week?”

“I did.” Race turned to me. “Alex and I have a difference of opinion. I had to find a new place to live today.”

Channing grunted again. “You’re a good fighter. I saw some of your moves.”

“Thank you.” Race winced, and I saw that he was hurting. His face was a little pale. “That’s part of the reason I moved here,” he continued. “There’s a good underground ring. You’re the champ, right?”

My brother nodded. He’d been keeping a mask up, but now he let a real grin shine through. “I am.” He paused. “For now. I recently retired.” He nodded to Moose and Congo, who were heading over. “Everyone handled?”

Moose said, “Everyone’s down.”

Jordan nodded at me. “I know Cross is checking, but are you okay?”

“Everything except maybe a rib.” As I spoke, Cross straightened in front of me. His hand came to where my rib was, but he didn’t touch me. He wanted to, his hand hovering there, and with a small apology in his eyes, he lifted up my shirt for a better look.

I pushed it down. “I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t listening. He held my shirt up higher and frowned at what he saw. His eyes closed, and a second later, he stepped close, his forehead softly resting on my shoulder. I felt his tension leave his body then, and couldn’t help myself. I closed my eyes, running a hand down his back.

Neither of us commented as he shuddered under that touch.

Jordan cleared his throat, his voice still rough. “We’ll take you to the hospital. Cross will drive you.” He motioned to Zellman. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“I can go with her—” Race offered, but my brother shook his head.

That wasn’t protocol. Crew took care of their own. Channing was my brother, and maybe if this were more severe, he’d step in, but even he respected the crew rule on this.

He stepped around so he could see me. “I’ll see you at home tonight. Call if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” I told him.

He walked away with his crew, but yelled over his shoulder, “Call me!”

Cross glanced sideways at me, but I didn’t say anything. I only nodded, waving to Moose and Congo. I refused to acknowledge the small part in me that was feeling all happy, glad that my big, bad brother had come to my defense. I wasn’t like that. That was too girly.

Which I wasn’t.

I was badass.

I had my own knife.

Right.

It took everything I had to keep from showing my stupid grin. It would’ve given me away, so I moved farther into my Jeep.

Cross held his hand out to Race. “Thank you.”

Race froze. The rest of us watched, and after a pause, he put his hand in Cross’. “Yeah.” He blinked a few times, rapidly. “Of course.”

Cross added, “I owe you.” And that was it. Turning, he got behind the wheel.

I tried to gauge his thoughts, but he only clenched his jaw and finally pulled out after the others had gone. We were the last vehicle.

We kept up with everyone going back into town, but after a while, I noticed Cross was going slower and slower, until Jordan’s truck’s lights were almost specks in the distance. Then he let out a deep breath and swung the Jeep into someone’s driveway. He slammed it into park and was across the seat in a heartbeat.

I didn’t have time to process.

He stopped just before touching me. His hand flexed. He let out a harsh breath. “Goddamn.” His touch was gentle as he cupped the side of my face.

“I’m okay.” I winced as I said that.

He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. His eyes were hard and dark. “Someone called your brother, and he called us on his way. We almost beat him here. Holy fuck, Bren.” He breathed out again, shakily. He rested his forehead gently to mine. “I lost about two years of my life, seeing you like that.”

My throat swelled, and I blinked away some water in my eyes, because that’s what it had to be.

“I’m okay.” I was in pain, but I was okay. No one had sliced or diced me.

His eyes closed. He didn’t move away.

This was Cross. He was my best friend. He was more family than Channing or Scratch. He was more than… I stopped thinking.

I closed my eyes and breathed out in relief too.

The ER nurse saw us and harrumphed. “You guys again. This week is complete now that I’ve seen you guys—or handiwork from you guys.”

Jordan and Zellman started laughing, but I caught the dark cloud on her face. She wasn’t amused. When the doctor came in to examine me, she booted them all out. Cross didn’t move from his seat.

“Gotta go,” she told him.

He locked eyes with her. His jaw firmed. “I’m not going.”