Page 84 of Rampage

"You're an angel, Lily. See you tomorrow?"

I nod, smiling as she gathers her purse and heads out the front door. The bakery falls silent as her footsteps fade. I hum softly while wiping down the last countertop, enjoying the peaceful solitude. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon still hangs in the air, comforting and familiar.

With the front already locked, I move toward the back door, keys jingling in my hand. Just as I slide the key into the lock, the door explodes inward with shocking force, the metal slamming into my shoulder. I stumble backward as three men in black ski masks burst through the opening.

"Grab her!" the tallest one shouts, lunging forward.

Something primal awakens inside me, the survival instinct I've honed through years of abuse. I'm not that helpless girl anymore.

I seize the industrial-sized mixing bowl from the counter and swing it with all my strength. Metal connects with the first attacker's head with a sickening crack. He drops to his knees, howling in pain.

"Bitch!" the second man snarls, reaching for my arm.

I dodge sideways, kicking over a flour bin that explodes in a white cloud between us. Temporarily blinded, he stumbles forward. I grab the fire extinguisher from the wall and discharge it directly into his face. He screams, clawing at his eyes.

The third man, more cautious now, circles around the prep table. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he growls. "Peterson just wants to talk."

Peterson. The name ignites fury inside me. This isn't about me, it's about Meadow.

"Tell Peterson to go to hell," I spit, backing toward the front of the bakery where my phone lies on the counter.

The man lunges for me, faster than I anticipated. His hand closes around my throat, lifting me off my feet. Panic floods my system as my airway constricts. Black spots dance in my vision.

Years of survival instinct kick in once more. I go limp for a split second, making him adjust his grip. The moment his hold loosens, I drive my knee upward with every ounce of strength I possess.

He howls, doubling over as I drop to the floor. I scramble away, gasping for air, but the first attacker has recovered. He grabs my ankle, dragging me backward across the tile.

"No!" I scream, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth floor.

My hand closes around the handle of a rolling pin. I twist, swinging it in a wide arc that connects with his temple. The impact reverberates up my arm as he crumples.

The second man lunges at me, his meaty hand reaching for my hair. I scream, throwing myself backward, but there's nowhere left to go. My back hits the wall just as the front door explodes, glass shattering across the bakery floor.

Reid bursts through the doorway like vengeance incarnate, his face contorted with rage. Blood stains his left sleeve, but he moves like a predator, focused and lethal. In two strides, he crosses the room and slams into the man reaching for me, driving him into the display case with such force that glass shatters beneath them.

I collapse to the floor, lungs burning as I gulp down air, watching in shock as Reid unleashes a fury I've never witnessed before. His fists rise and fall with brutal accuracy, each blow connecting with sickening force. Blood sprays across the pristine white counter as the man's face caves beneath Reid's assault.

"You don't touch her," Reid growls, each word punctuated by another devastating blow. "You don't look at her. You don't breathe near her."

The third attacker tries to intervene, grabbing Reid's injured arm. Reid barely flinches, pivoting with terrifying speed to drive his elbow into the man's throat. As the attacker staggers backward, clutching his crushed windpipe, Reid seizes him by the shirt and hurls him across the room.

Christopher appears at the back entrance, his gun drawn, but he doesn't need to fire. Reid has transformed into something primal, something terrifying in his protective rage. He straddles the first attacker, fists continuing their relentless assault until the man stops moving entirely.

"Reid," I whisper, my voice ragged. "Reid, stop. You'll kill him."

He freezes at the sound of my voice, his bloodied knuckles suspended in midair. For a heartbeat, he remains perfectly still, chest heaving, before slowly turning toward me. The rage in his eyes recedes slightly, replaced with desperate concern.

"Lily," he gasps, abandoning his victim to crawl to my side. "Are you hurt? Did they?—"

"I'm okay," I assure him, reaching for his face with trembling hands. "But you're bleeding."

He dismisses his injury with a shake of his head, gathering me against his chest with such gentleness, it's hard to believe this is the same man who just brutalized three attackers. "I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs into my hair. "When I heard you scream…"

Christopher secures the men, zip-tying their wrists behind their backs with clinical efficiency. One moans weakly; the others remain disturbingly still. Blood pools on the bakery floor, turning the spilled flour from earlier into a gruesome paste.

"We are sending someone to come clean all of this up, we need to get her out of here," Christopher tells us.

Reid's arms tighten around me.

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