Crumbling Cakes

Part XLIII (43)

It was dark. Late. The chances of anyone even hearing me had been slim. Bathilda was about to accomplish the thing she's been salivating over for the last 13 years. And that was imprisoning me at The Yellow Canary. Bile started to rise up in my throat. I couldn't have that future.

I couldn't.

Panic was only starting to rev it's engine when I heard a glorious sound.

"Hey!" The shout was near. "Down she goes." I squinted before me and saw Sebastian waltzing up to us, cool as a cucumber. I sagged in relief but tried to communicate telepathically to hurry the F up. Grunts Malone turned his head in Ronaldo's direction. I based this knowledge off the fact that he clipped me in the head with his chin. Just inches from where it had danced with the concrete weeks ago.

The sharp pain that shot across my crown led me to believe this bastard was either Angel Dust or freaking Colossus. Didn't fucking matter which because currently the score was Grunts Malone: 3, Dalia's Head: 0.

"Fuck off, Prick. This doesn't concern you." Grunts turned us back around. Aiming for the car. The goal here was to never get in that car. I get behind that door, Sebastian could kiss me goodbye. Indefinitely; most likely only to forever remain in his memory. Grunts, however, underestimates the man he turned his back on. Ronaldo was stealthier than all of them. Or so I was about to find out.

"Sorry, can't do that." Sebastian must have grabbed Grunts by the shoulder and spun him around. Next thing I knew I was soaking in his handsome face. If this was the last time I was going to see it, then my eyes would feast. "See, that's my girl you're trying to haul off with."

Quick as Flash incarnate, he reared back a fist and centered it with Grunts face—no warning. A resounding crunch reverberated from the connection. Grunts now had another reason to speak in monosyllables while he nearly toppled, with me in tow. His hold had loosened and I squirmed; elbowing my way out as the world started to tip backward.

Sebastian wasted zero time wrapping a hand around my forearm and forcibly yanking me toward him—the grip painful but he wasn't going to hear any complaints from me; circumstances were rather dire.

Grunts being unable to multitask and trying to keep himself from crashing to the ground didn't stand a chance in keeping me held hostage. I collided with Ronnie's chest, a protective arm held me to him for a brief second before he moved me to stand behind his back.

His eyes never left Grunts' progress. Unfortunately, he'd regained his footing and was now charging at Sebastian. I took a hasty step back, knowing one's use in a situation such as this is very important. It was clear I would only be in the way, but that didn't stop the stab of worry I felt when I saw Grunts fist trying to return the party favor.

Sweets was faster, though. He dodged the jab aimed at his jaw, twisting to the left. His hand shot up to grab hold of Grunts' neck from the side closest to him and wrapped toward the back, his wrist angled in a twist—forearm braced against the upper torso. Grunts shoulder was facing Sebastian's chest. I recognize what this was. Sebastian had essentially locked Grunts movement. And when his fist connected with Grunts rib cage in a painful left hook, I understood why.

He didn't stop after the first blow. Three more hits landed on those ribs in quick succession. Sebastian was pissed. I vaguely heard a cracking noise, my eyes, however, had been drawn to the woman rapidly stepping out of the car.

"Sebastian!" I warned. He pushed Grunts against the car hard, landing a blow to his jaw. Grunts looked dazed and stunned. Bathilda was furious.

I don't think I've ever seen her move so quickly, but the knife in her hand had me moving forward to tackle her. I barely made it a foot when something pulled me back. It was another stranger who was hauling me in the wrong direction. My first thought was that we were outnumbered. The whispered ally gave me pause, craning my neck for a better look.