Page 43 of Freestyle
The bar is alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses, a chaotic symphony that fades into the background as Phoenix and I settle into our seats. The rich aroma of fried food and beer fills the air, but my senses sharpen as Rowyn appears, weaving through the crowd with a tray of drinks balanced on her arm, her movements fluid and confident.
As she approaches, my heart races, a primal instinct kicking in. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, emphasizing the delicate curve of her neck. The tight black tank top clings to her curves like a second skin, paired with a skirt so short it barely conceals anything. The sight of her ignites a fierce mix of pride and possessiveness within me.
“Look at her… damn,” Nix murmurs, his voice low, eyes narrowing as he watches other men glance in Rowyn’s direction. I can see his jaw tightening, muscles coiling with frustration. A surge of protectiveness washes over me, the thought of those guys ogling her igniting a fire in my chest.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with a simmering tension.
Phoenix clenches his fists, frustration palpable as he observes the shameless stares. “Those assholes need to back off. She’s not available,” he growls through gritted teeth, and I can feel the heat radiating off him.
I nod in agreement, my gaze locked on Rowyn as she laughs with a customer, the sound both intoxicating and infuriating. It makes my heart ache with a blend of admiration and jealousy. Phoenix shifts in his seat, his expression darkening as a particularly bold guy leans in closer to her.
I watch as Rowyn shifts, her body language tense yet composed as she laughs politely at something the customer says. But there’s a tightness in her shoulders, a flicker of unease in her eyes, so quick most wouldn’t catch it.
Except I do, and so does Nix.
The guy leans in closer, too close, invading her space like he owns it. My grip tightens around the edge of the table, jawlocked. I hate the way he looks at her, like she’s some prize to be won rather than a person who deserves respect.
I can feel the tension building between us, both of us instinctively knowing we need to protect her from the unwanted attention. The possessiveness surges within me, fueled by the desire to keep her safe and close.
Rowyn steps back subtly, creating distance, but he’s persistent. His fingers brush against her arm, lingering in a way that turns my stomach. Then, without hesitation, he lets his hand drop lower, grazing her ass like he has the right. Without warning, he pulls Rowyn into his lap, and I can see the fear cross her face.
She’s perched stiffly on his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her there like he has a damn right to.
My vision tunnels.
Rowyn’s expression is tight, her body rigid with unease. She’s not playing along, not engaging, just enduring and it makes something inside me snap.
Before I can move, Nix is already on his feet.
“You got about two seconds to let her go,” he says, voice low, lethal.
That’s all it takes.
I lunge forward, ripping him up by his collar, but his drunken weight makes him stumble, and suddenly his armswings wildly, aiming for me. Rowyn jumps up and moves to the other side of the table.
It happens fast.
He misses his mark, his balance thrown off by the liquor coursing through his veins. His fist veers sideways—and collides with Rowyn’s cheek instead.
She gasps, jerking back, shock flashing in her eyes.
Everything in me snaps.
I don’t think.
I act.
Before the guy can register what just happened, Nix is already there. His fist connects hard with the guy’s gut, doubling him over. I grab his shirt, shoving him off the chair and onto the floor with enough force that he crashes against the nearest table, glasses rattling in the wake.
He groans, trying to push himself up, but I don’t give him the chance. I grip his collar again, yanking him forward, my knuckles white with the restraint it’s taking to not go further.
“You just hit her,” I growl, voice barely recognizable under the fury roaring through me. “You’re done.”
The guy blinks through the haze, as if the weight of his mistake is finally settling in but by then, security is already rushing in, dragging him toward the exit, shouting warnings he’s too wasted to comprehend.
I turn fast, heart still hammering as my eyes lock onto Rowyn.
She presses fingers to her cheek, her breathing uneven, her expression caught between shock and anger. Nix steps toward her, glancing over the mark forming on her skin.
