Page 52 of Blood & Throttle
A couple of racers from Graveborn’s crew linger just outside the garage—filthy pricks with too much ego and not enough brains. One of them, some smug bastard with a scar down his cheek and that coked-up twitch in his jaw, peels away from the group and saunters toward her like he owns the place.
His gaze drags across her body—slowly, deliberately, and filthy. He’s practically undressing her with his eyes, and I can already see how this ends.
Sin looks up as he approaches, one brow arched, cocky as ever, mouth curved in that sharp little smirk she wears likearmor. She says something—something smart, probably something biting—but he leans in, ignoring it, eyes glued to her chest like he’s never seen tits before.
His buddies laugh from the shadows behind him, one of them licking his lips like she’s the fucking special on the menu.
The fuck they think this is?
I’m already moving.
Steps heavy. Vision tunneling. Rage pumping molten in my veins.
Sin sees me. She straightens, eyes narrowing slightly—not scared, just curious. She knows something’s coming. Probably heard the crack of my knuckles when I clenched my fists.
Scarface doesn’t even have time to turn before my fist connects with his jaw.
Bone. Skin. Blood.
He hits the ground hard, back cracking against the concrete as the others freeze.
I stand over him, my fists clenched, and chest heaving.
“Touch her,” I growl, voice low and fucking lethal, “and the next thing hitting the floor’ll be your goddamn teeth.”
He groans, blood dripping from his mouth.
The others shift behind him like they’re thinking about stepping in.
I raise my head, lock eyes with each of them. “Go ahead. Make this interesting.”
None of them move.
Didn’t think so.
The bastard coughs, blood leaking down his chin, and I hear Bishop behind me, voice sharp.
“Riot. That’s enough.”
“Back the fuck off,” I snap.
Sin’s eyes are locked on me now, unreadable. She doesn’tflinch, doesn’t say a word. Taz is already by her side, ears pinned back, growling low like she’s one second from launching at the guy’s throat.
Bishop moves in and grabs my shoulder. “I said that’s enough. You want to survive the next race, you keep your shit tight. Not lose.”
I don’t respond, just shove the racer away and wipe the blood off my hand and onto his jacket. “Get the fuck outta my garage.”
The asshole stumbles off, holding his face, and the crew goes quiet.
Bishop drags me to the side.
“You wanna get yourself killed?” he mutters, voice low. “Because this?” He jerks his head toward Sin. “This is gonna get you killed if you don’t control it.”
“She’s part of my team.”
“She’s not just your fucking team. She’s your goddamn weakness.”
My knuckles flex. “She killed a guy for me.”
