I didn’t wait. I twisted, lifting the crowbar again, aiming higher.
He caught it this time.
His large hand closed over the steel mid-swing, yanking it from my grasp. With a growl, he hurled it across the alley. It clattered against the brick, skidding across the pavement before landing somewhere in the shadows.
I barely had time to register the loss of my weapon before he lunged.
I ducked, his fist swinging just over my head. My heart slammed against my ribs, but I forced myself to stay calm. Quick. Calculated.
I spun on my heel and landed a solid kick to his stomach. He staggered, but barely.
“Feisty,” He muttered, shaking off the blow like it was nothing.
I moved again. Faster. I faked left, then right, my hands quick and relentless. A strike to his ribs. Another to his jaw. His head snapped to the side.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it darkened with something nastier. He charged.
I sidestepped at the last second, forcing his weight to shift forward. As he stumbled, I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and drove my knee hard into the back of his legs.
He dropped.
The impact was loud as his face hit the concrete, and landed on all fours, gasping for air.
I exhaled sharply, stepping toward him, my own breaths heavy. The fight was over.
Or so I thought.
Before I could react, he grabbed a handful of dirt and rocks from the ground and threw it at my face.
A sharp, blinding burn.
I gasped, instinctively stepping back, my hands flying up to my eyes. Grit dug into my skin, the dust stinging. I tried to rub it away, but the damage was done. I blinked rapidly, my body tensing, waiting for the hit that I knew was coming.
But it never did.
Instead–
Bang.
A deep, guttural grunt.
A sharpcrackagainst brick.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I scrubbed at my eyes, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. I forced my vision to clear, forced my body to react,to see.
A massive, dark figure looming over Hiroshi’s body, his hand wrapped around his throat, holding him against the alley wall.
Hiroshi struggled, his boots scraping uselessly against the ground as Zane pressed him harder into the bricks. His knuckles were white, his entire body taut with rage.
I barely recognized him.
He wasn’t just angry.
He was furious.
Danger coiled in every muscle, in every sharp edge of his expression.
As if he could feel me watching, he turned his head slightly, looking at me over his shoulder. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and something in my chest went tight.