Page 236 of Bitter’s Sweet

“I know.”

“Two.”

Razor shouts somewhere behind him, “She’s mine!”

Bitter’s whole face changes.

Even half over the edge with blood running down his arm and my weight dragging him toward the hole, he looks ready to kill.

“She ain’t yours,” he says, low and deadly. Then his eyes lock on mine. “She ain’t anybody’s.”

My chest tightens.

“Three!”

The world jerks.

Pain rips through my shoulder. I cry out as Bitter hauls and Ghoul catches my other arm. Concrete scrapes my stomach, knees, and hip. Mama’s frame cracks harder against my ribs.

For one horrible second, I think I will lose it.

Then I tumble over the edge and land against Bitter hard enough to knock the air out of both of us.

His arms close around me too tightly for half a second, then loosen the instant I stiffen.

Not trapping.

Holding.

I hate that he taught me the difference.

“You’re okay,” he says against my hair, his voice shaking. “You’re okay. I got you.”

I am not okay.

My wrist throbs. My shoulder burns. My knees feel skinned raw. Razor’s slap still burns across my cheek. My palms sting. My chest feels crushed around fear, humiliation, rage, and every ugly thing Bitter has handed me since yesterday.

The club comes first.

Told you what I was, sunshine.

A woman I fucked.

You wanted it to mean more.

Not enough.

I shove at him.

He lets go immediately.

That hurts too.

I scramble backward with Mama’s picture clutched tight against me.

“Don’t.”

His eyes flash with pain. “Sweet.”