Seth

The wind lashed against him, sharp as needles slicing through his skin. Houses, buildings, trees, and cars on the road blurred past in a chaotic rush. The engine beneath him roared, feral and relentless, as if it shared his hunger for speed. The needle on the speedometer climbed higher—140—160—180—200—pushing into dangerous territory. His eyes, cold and focused, scanned the road ahead, every movement precise, every muscle in his body locked in.

The summer night's darkness pressed in around him, and the chill bit at his skin. He wore only a black hoodie and jeans, the cold gnawing at his flesh. But adrenaline burned in his veins, hot and unyielding, pumping through him with every beat of his heart. The vibration of the bike thrummed beneath him as his grip tightened on the handlebars, propelling him forward, faster and faster.

He knew it. Felt it deep in his gut. There was something wrong with that man. A sick, twisting wrongness that he couldn't shake—and he hated it. The kind of hate that spread like wildfire, searing through his nerves, from his core to his fingertips. He rarely used the word hate, especially for someone he barely knew. But with him? He'd seen enough to know. The bastard was an abuser. No question.

He couldn't shake the image of Freya's eyes—once so fierce, so alive, now hollowed out, stripped of their fire. That man had extinguished her soul. The thought made his stomach churn, filling him with a fury so hot, it scorched the edges of his mind. She'd been shaking, her voice—usually bold and unwavering—reduced to nothing. She'd looked so small, so powerless, like a lamb cornered by a wolf.

And that did something to him. Something visceral. Something dark.

It spread through him, this blackness, consuming every part of him.

Because he knew. He knew what it was like to be the lamb.

He'd lived it. Breathed it.

And he'd be damned if he let her suffer the same.

  ~*~*~*~*~

The ride had calmed his rage, though the adrenaline and heat still coursed through him, simmering just beneath the surface. Steering the bike onto the gravel road leading up to the stable, he kept the engine low, mindful not to wake the night. He eased past her house, its silhouette looming in the dark. No lights shone from the windows, but his eyes caught a figure standing on the creaking veranda, barely visible in the moonlight.

He parked the bike and made his way toward the rickety porch.

The porch steps groaned under his weight as he climbed them. He pushed open the small gate and took a few steps closer to her. She didn't acknowledge him, her attention locked elsewhere. The heavy smoke swirled around her, and Seth couldn't decide if he found her smoking sexy or revolting.

He took another step forward, standing directly in front of her now. His height towered over her—a dynamic he liked. It gave him a sense of control, a power he couldn't ignore.

"I meant what I said tonight. I'm not going to let him touch you," he growled, low and menacing. "And if he tries, there will be consequences."

She took a long, deliberate drag from her cigarette, the movement sharp, almost annoyed.

"You stay out of this," she said calmly.

He still loomed over her, but she refused to look at him. Her gaze stayed fixed on the darkness ahead, staring into the void.

His hand reached out, cupping her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his eyes. The fire in her volcanic gaze clashed against the icy intensity in his.

"You don't get to fight me on this," he said, his tone unyielding. "No matter how much you hate me."

She tried to wrench her head away, to reclaim her control, but he didn't let go. His other hand slid behind her neck, holding her firmly in place. She was like a wild horse, and he was determined to tame her.

"I do hate you. Truly," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "And you're no better than him, no matter what you tell yourself. Both of you barged into my life uninvited and ruined it in every way you could."

"And if it weren't for you, Caleb's name would've faded into nothing, his contract never renewed, his presence never forced back into my life."

With a quick, forceful twist, she broke free from his grip, spinning on her heel and striding toward the porch door. Seth followed instinctively, his long strides closing the gap between them. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her just before she could escape.

"Don't, Freya. We both know what he's capable of."

Her back was to him, but she turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. "I do know what he's capable of. You don't. And I don't want you to. Stay out of this, Seth. I mean it. You're the last person I want interfering in my life."

Her words cut deep, and his hand released her instantly, as though burned.

He stood there, frozen, as she stepped inside and locked the door behind her.

Locked him out.

Locked him out of her life.