Page 3 of Protect

“What’s so important that you’re interrupting this?” He demands.

He’s my friend. I shouldn’t hesitate to tell him when our girl is involved, but it’s because she’s involved that I’m nervous. I can’t exactly warn the guys on the field. This is the same guy who takes a brush-off and argument with our girl as a sign of love but will also deck someone the second he thinks they’re looking at her the wrong way.

“Well, spit it out, Dimitri!” Jax orders. “I have things to do.”

“Coach took Hope,” I say simply. It just spills out of me.

Jaxon doesn’t even breathe. His eyes look like he’s contemplating how much torture he can get in before he murders the man we once worshipped. His jaw ticks and he drops his helmet, his hands curling into fists.

“Knox already went after her. We’ll do what we can, but we need to take care of things with Jared and get information on where Coach could be taking her. Knox is heading to his place, but…” I trail off. “Jax, you with me?”

He looks like he’s going rabid one second at a time, descending deeper and deeper into madness. “He can’t do that. She’s mine.”

“Jax, focus,” I snap.

He grips my shirt and jerks me against him, snarling. He looks like a beast. Not someone who plays football, not some pissed-off man, an actual monster who is going to rip someone’s throat out with his teeth.

“She’smine. She can’t go. She knows that,” he snarls. “Not again.”

I put my hand on his. “She didn’t have a choice. Knox is doing what he can to track her down. We need to help. You can’t get your hands on him and get her back until we know where she is and—”

He punches the large plastic water jug. I hear the dense plastic crack as it falls over, water gushing out of it. He kicks the bench next, leaving a large, obvious dent there as he pants. No one dares come over here. None of them ask what’s wrong. They just keep their eyes down. It’s the best way to deal with Jaxon like this.

I don’t need to voice my own rage. He’s got enough for both of us.

If it would help us deal with the situation, I’d welcome it. But we have shit to do to get our girl back where she belongs.

Two

HOPE

Panting breaths and moans ring in my ears as hands wander over my heated skin. My fight is gone. I could never win against these three.

Every thrust is sharp, deeper than the one before. My legs have given out, but this hasn’t stopped them.

“She feels so good,” one of them says from behind me as his fingers dig into my hips. Tension and hidden pleasure tingle up my spine and my core tightens.

I shake my head as I realize what is happening. My own body betrays me until I can’t stop the soft moan that spills from me.

“Knox.”

My eyes slowly flutter open to reveal the darkness I’m in. The dreams have never left me. Knox, Dimitri and Jaxon. The night they marked me as theirs plays on and on in my mind. Taunting, but soothing.

They are my anchor to sanity while I’m stuck in this nightmare. They are the ones that keep me from a fall I can never get up from.

My dad has kept me in the same room for days; not a ray of sunshine filters inside. There’s not even a familiar scent. Nothing but shadows.

They move the longer I stare at them, but I’d rather see shadows crawling across walls and trying to grab me if it keeps my father away. It’s a good trade in my opinion. My eyes flit to the door as if he’s going to walk in just because I’m thinking about him.

He hasn’t touched me; it almost seems like he’s waiting for something. I’m just not sure what. Perhaps he doesn’t like me enough anymore, now that I’m older. But then again, that didn’t stop him from trying to get his dick in me when he was at the apartment.

I shiver at the thought; disgust and fear swirl in my stomach. Or maybe, it’s just the hunger I’m feeling. Not that I can fix either thing. I can’t carve out my memories any more than I can make food appear in front of me.

I slowly crawl up from the wooden flooring. My body aches with every move. My hands are coated in dried blood from when I tried to beat my way out of this room. But the door is tougher than it looks.

My lips have dried out, and my throat feels like sandpaper. My legs wobble as I step closer to the door. With my hand stretched before me, I hold myself up until I lean against the harsh wood. I press my ear to it but can’t hear anything. It’s thick. Sighing, I press my cheek, then forehead, against the cool surface.

I rap my knuckles and keep my ear pressed to the door as I call out. “Dad? Are you there?” My voice is hoarse and broken. I hold my breath for any sound, but I’m met with silence. “Dad?”