Page 145 of Fatality

Which I absolutely will.

It’s been hours, and I’m still wrestling with that stupid cowl panel—or whatever the hell Ren said it was called.

I haven’t accomplished shit. And it’s starting to piss me off more than being watched like a child.

I try again.

Being watched, only makes me more conscious of how long I’ve been stuck on this stupid thing.

I lift my head, sitting back on my heels and wipe my brow.

My eyes sweep across the garage, only to meet a dozen pairs of eyes already watching me, besides Varek and Ren.

“What?!” I bark. “Don’t you assholes have anything better to do? Or do you usually spend your days sucking each other off and watching other people?”

A stunned murmur ripples through the garage before giving way to outrage and fury.

A few of them rise to their feet and start to advance on me.

I don’t move.

My face stays blank, but my pounding heart gives away just how badly I’m shitting myself.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“You’re getting too comfortable, thinking you’ve got the boss’s protection.”

My eyes widen ever so slightly.

Protection? What? What are they talking about?

He would never.

I’m about to open my mouth and, most likely, make things even worse when suddenly, Evren steps in front of me, appearing like some fucked up ghost out of nowhere.

“Back off,” he snarls. The veins in his neck bulge, standing out beneath his skin. “Or do I need to kill someone else? She’s working. She’s a brat—”

At the insult, I hurl the tool in my hand at his head.

He ducks without even looking, and the tool sails past him, smacking into the chest of one of the men who had been advancing on me.

“See?” he says dryly. “A brat.”

He glances over his shoulder at me before turning his attention back to his men.

“But she’s fixing my car. She’s slow as fuck at it, but she’s doing it. And if any of you bother her, or touch her…”

He lets the words hang in the air, the threat clear even without saying it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Evren?” I snap. “Since when do you give a shit? I don’t need your help or whatever—”

He moves in a blur.

One second, he’s standing in front of me, the next he’s on me, slamming me back against the hood.

His body cages mine, coiled tight with restrained violence.

“You think you can handle them?” he asks, leaning in.