Page 77 of Shattered Melodies

I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. I needed to call a cab, needed to get home before I did something stupid.

Like go to Caleb’s house and pour my heart out, beg him for answers.

No, I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t let myself be vulnerable like that, not again. Not after everything that had happened.

I was just about to dial the number for the local cab company when I heard it. A voice, coming from the shadows of the alley beside the bar.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here, boys. A little fairy, out all alone at night.”

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. I didn’t recognize the voice, but I knew that tone, knew the hatred and the disgust that dripped from every word.

I turned slowly, my fists clenching at my sides. And there they were, three men, emerging from the darkness with sneers on their faces and malice in their eyes.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Just let me go, and we can all forget this ever happened.”

The one in the middle, a big, beefy guy with a face like a bulldog, laughed, the sound grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“Oh, we’re not looking for trouble, sweetheart,” he said, his words slurring slightly. “We’re just looking for a little fun, that’s all. And you look like you could be a whole lot of fun, if you know what I mean.”

The other two laughed, their eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. I felt the anger rising in me, hot and fast and uncontrollable.

“Fuck you,” I spat, my voice shaking with rage. “I’m not interested in your kind of fun, asshole. Now get out of my way before I make you regret it.”

The leader’s face twisted, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Oh, we got a feisty one, boys,” he sneered, taking a step towards me. “I like ‘em feisty. Makes it more fun when we break ‘em in.”

And that was the last straw. The final insult, the ultimate betrayal of everything I was and everything I believed in.

I didn’t even realize I was moving until my fist was connecting with his jaw, the sickening crunch of bone on bone echoing in the stillness of the night. The man stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and fury. But I didn’t give him a chance to recover, didn’t give him a chance to strike back.

I was on him in an instant, my hands grabbing at his collar and slamming him up against the wall. His buddies tried to intervene, but I was too fast, too fueled by the rage and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I fought like a man possessed, my fists flying and my feet lashing out in a flurry of blows. I could feel the pain, could feel the blood dripping from my split knuckles and my busted lip, but I didn’t care.

All I cared about was making them hurt, making them pay for the hatred and the bigotry and the small-minded cruelty that had ruled my life for far too long.

But even as I fought, even as I poured every ounce of my anger and my pain into each punch and each kick I knew it was a losing battle. Knew that there were too many of them, that they were too big and too strong and too drunk on their own sense of power and entitlement.

And just as I was about to go down, just as I was about to succumb to the darkness that was creeping in at the edges of my vision a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me back and away from the fray.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” a voice shouted in my ear, the sound distant and muffled through the roaring in my head. “Break it up, you two! That’s enough!”

I struggled against the grip, my body thrashing like a wild animal caught in a trap. But the arms held firm, the chest pressed against my back solid and unyielding.

“Let me go!” I yelled, my voice raw and ragged. “I’m not done with them yet, I’m not fucking done!”

The arms tightened, the voice growing more insistent. “Yes, you are. You’re done, Liam. It’s over.”

And something about that voice, about the way it said my name it cut through the haze of anger and adrenaline like a knife, bringing me back to myself with a jolt.

I went still, my breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. And slowly, slowly, I turned my head to look at the man who had pulled me away from the brink.

It was Jake. Jake fucking Thompson, the bully who had made my life a living hell in high school. The one who had exposed my relationship with Caleb, who had torn our world apart with his cruelty and his hatred.

“Let me go, Jake!” I yelled, struggling against his hold. I couldn’t believe this was happening. After all these years, after everything he’d done, he had the nerve to lay his hands on me?

But Jake just tightened his grip, his voice calm and infuriatingly rational. “Not happening, Liam. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his concern, but before I could get the words out, another voice cut through the chaos.

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