Page 28 of Judge's Justice

I stumble forward. The gray-bearded one's almost to the porch steps.

"Nora, run—"

Then I hear it.

The most beautiful sound in the world.

Two motorcycles. Coming fast. Coming hard.

Saint and Canvas.

The gray-bearded one hears them too. He stops, turns, curses viciously.

The bikes scream around the corner. Saint's in front, his bike black with silver accents, the Iron Phoenix patch prominent on his vest. Canvas is right behind him, his bike louder, modified exhaust that sounds like thunder.

They don't slow down. Don't stop to assess. They see me bleeding on the ground, see the gray-bearded one near the porch, see the bald one and the Viper from last night scattered around the street, and they react.

Saint's off his bike before it's fully stopped. He catches the gray-bearded one as he tries to back away from the porch, grabs him by his vest and slams him against the porch railing so hard the wood cracks.

"You made a mistake coming here," Saint says. His voice is cold. Flat. "You made a really fucking big mistake."

Canvas goes straight for the bald one. The bald one's bigger. Six-five, at least two-eighty, pure muscle, but Canvas doesn't care. He's faster. He drives his fist into the bald one's solar plexus, follows with an uppercut that snaps his head back, blood flying from his mouth.

I'm trying to get up. Trying to help. But my body won't cooperate. Everything's screaming. The broken rib, the dislocated shoulder, the swelling eye. I manage to get to my knees. That's as far as I get before my vision grays out.

"Judge!" Canvas glances over, sees me struggling. "Stay down. We got this."

Saint has the gray-bearded one pinned against the porch, forearm across his throat. "How many of you did Demon send?"

The gray-bearded one spits blood. Grins despite the pressure on his windpipe. "Just us three. Scouting mission. See what the VP cares about. Report back." His eyes slide to Nora, still frozen on the porch. Then to the window where Grace's face is pressed against the glass. "Looks like we found something interesting. The woman from the security footage. And the kid. Demon's going to want to know all about them."

His gaze shifts to Saint, and his grin widens. "Well, well. Look who came to play hero. Little Saint. Demon's baby brother." He laughs, blood bubbling at his lips. "Oh, Demon's going to love this. His traitor brother protecting the Iron Phoenix VP and his civilian bitches. This just keeps getting better."

Saint's entire body goes rigid. His forearm presses harder against the gray-bearded one's throat. For a second, I think he's going to crush his windpipe right there.

"Say that again," Saint says, his voice deadly quiet. "I fucking dare you."

The gray-bearded one chokes, gasping, but manages to rasp out, "Demon... knows you're soft... knows you'll always... be soft... protecting the weak..."

Canvas calls out a warning. "Saint! Civilian!"

Saint looks up at Nora. His face changes immediately. The rage banks. He releases the gray-bearded one but doesn't step back. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

Nora nods shakily. Can't seem to speak.

"Is there anyone else inside?"

"My—my daughter. She's five. She's—" Nora's voice breaks. "Is Judge… Is he—"

"He's alive," Saint says. "Stubborn bastard won't die that easy." He glances at me. Then back at the gray-bearded one. "You're going to get on your bike and ride back to Demon. You're going to tell him exactly what happened. That he sent three men and the Iron Phoenix sent two, and his men lost. You're going to tell him that if he comes after civilians again, if he even thinks about using them as leverage, we won't just beat his men. We'll bury them."

"Big talk from nine men against forty-three."

"We're not the ones who ran," Canvas says. He's got the bald one on the ground now, knee pressed into his back, the bald one's arm twisted at an angle that makes my shoulder hurt just looking at it. "We're not the ones who need three against one to get a win."

"That wasn't a win," the gray-bearded one says. He's looking at me, at how I can barely hold myself upright. "Look at your VP. We destroyed him."

"No," Canvas says. "You pissed him off. There's a difference."