The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 25 ~ The Badass

Chapter 25

Suddenly, it was as if I'd been swept up into an ocean current. All three men grabbed for me, one for my legs, the others my arms. I kicked and twisted, but it was no use. I was outnumbered and overpowered. Their grips locked, the world settled, and I was suspended in air, unable to move an inch.

"Put that girl down!" Mr. Frankfire rushed to help.

"Stay back!" I yelled. 

"The hell I will!"

Panic filled me. The old man couldn't take any more beating, and I knew that's what would happen if he didn't walk away. I strained against the hands restraining me, but with no way to leverage myself, I barely managed to move.

One of the boys holding my arms laughed. "Damn! She made his nose bleed!"

The one holding my feet sneered and wiped the trickle of blood from above his lip.

"She's kind of hot," the same one from before added.

I peeked to the right, saw the old man struggling to stand up straight, and for a brief moment, I felt true fear. Unlike the boy, Mr. Frankfire had more than a trickle of blood. His ran down the side of his mouth, coated his neck and soaked his shirt. His face was swollen and his eye was beginning to turn a nasty shade of purple. I ground my teeth and fought harder. I wouldn't beat them. I wasn't stupid enough to think I could, but if I could keep their attention away from him...

"Walk away, old man," I said between my teeth. "Just do it."

He grimaced and shook his head, but he didn't answer me. There was a hopelessness in his eyes that clenched my heart. This was worst for him than the beating, but I couldn't let him be a hero, not for me.

A hand ran down the side of my neck, and I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw. Bile rose into my throat as the touch drifted down, and icy fear washed over me when I felt them carrying me away.

This is it. Another shitty gift from karma, a prize for trying to help a defenseless old man.

Then, as if Karma herself had heard my thoughts, an engine roared.

I twisted at the sound, and a relieved cry echoed out of me. A Camaro.

Tires squealed as the car barreled onto the sidewalk and almost collided with the guy gripping my legs. He stumbled out of the way, and my bottom half hit the ground.

Bard didn't even cut the engine. He slammed the car into park and jumped out quicker than I thought possible. He was a whirlwind, a gust of power as his fist surely and accurately made impact with the closest of the three men and dropped him to the concrete. One hit and boom. He was out cold, limbs sprawled out at unnatural angles and face slack.

The other two abandoned their hold on me and hurried to help their friend, but Bard's eyes were wild. I'd never seen anything like him. He moved like water, fluid and graceful. Like an actor in an impossible scene from some unrealistic movie. He grabbed one of the men, rammed his face into his knee, then before the kid could hit the ground, he grabbed the other by the hair and head butted him in the nose. A familiar crunch racked the air and blood gushed out like a popped balloon.

I thought it was over, but Bard didn't stop. He kept going, downward punches one after the other even after the boy was unconscious. It was the kid who'd touched me.