Chapter Five

- Logan -

The sight before me sent my blood boiling, my heart hammering like a violent jackhammer against my ribs and my hands curled so tightly into fists that my knuckles turned stark white beneath my tattoos.

Charlotte's hazel eyes locked with mine, the corneas red from struggling to breath against that asshole's grip on her throat. Her fingers clamped around his wrist as she tried to stop him choking the life out of her, her knees flailing uselessly to kick him off.

That pompous fucking square Arthur.

I'd always hated the asshole. Now I finally got to give him exactly what he deserved.

I didn't give another warning. I simply moved.

My hand reached out, grabbing the back of the bastard's tailored suit and yanked him like a sack of shit, tossing him against the far wall away from her.

I'd thrown tires that weighed more than that piece of shit.

Charlotte let out a god awful wheeze as her breath came back to her, coughing and gripping her aching throat, her eyes locked onto me like she was trying to work out if I was real or not.

The plaster cracked under Arthur's back, his expression stunned as if he couldn't believe someone wasn't scared of him.

"I've been waiting for this," I sneered, a murderously dangerous smile curling my lips as my boots thudded against the carpet with dull thuds until I towered over him. "I promised I'd kill you if you ever touched her, asshole."

"This is none of your business, you fucking thug." He scowled, defiant and arrogant like he'd always been, opening his mouth to say something else that'd likely just make me kill him quicker, faltering when I grabbed his collar and retching him up the wall until his feet dangled uselessly.

"When it comes to her? It's always my business, fucker." I raised a fist, the heat of anger and long awaited violence roared through my veins, ready to beat the life out of the prick.

A voice wheezed from behind me through, heavy panting and desperation. "Logan! Stop..."

My fist froze, my jaw clenching so tight it hurt, slowly tearing my gaze away from Arthur to look back at Charlotte.

She'd sat up, cradling her throat that was red with handprint marks, her eyes wide with fear and her curls spilling around her pale face in a mess of sheer panic.

I knew her better than I knew an engine. Even after three years of not seeing her, of not hearing her voice or laughter ringing through the clubhouse like a church bell. I understood the desperate look in her eyes.

She wasn't scared for Arthur. Wasn't scared of seeing him get what he had coming.

She was terrified of what killing him would do to me.

I knew it wouldn't weigh on my soul. It wouldn't make me lose any sleep.

Fuck, it'd likely make me sleep better at night knowing he was dead and buried.

"Please..." she wheezed, "H-He's too connected..."

My jaw worked, the muscle jumping as I digested her words. I knew the asshole had enough money to have buried her location the last 3 years - making it impossible for half the clubhouse to find her, to call her and settle the furious worry her Pops suffered even after she'd cut us off.

Anytime we'd got close, the Iron Fangs club would start shit with us - missing cargo, an old fued sparking back up out of nowhere.

Police would raid the clubhouse for no reason. Would find a bogus charge they could never pin on us.

He'd been using his money to keep us away from her. But one thing was always undeniable.

She was still ours.

She was mine.

"He deserves this, Char," I gritted out, my voice a low, bloodthirsty rumble. My eyes were pinned on her but my grip on Arthur, even as he struggled, didn't loosen.

She swallowed hard, like she was swallowing glass. "I know," she whispered, the words dropping like an anchor as she knew it as well as I did. She wasn't stopping me because she didn't think he deserved to die right now.

She opened her plush lips, her eyes pleading. "But-"

The sound of approaching sirens cut through the air, stopping her words dead as her head whipped towards the door. Police probably called by the receptionist of the motel when she'd seen the argument unfold or when I'd broken down the door.

A fresh wave of panic flared in Charlotte's eyes, her chest hitching like she knew as well as I did, that they weren't here to help her.

A low growl of pure frustration left my throat. "Dammit." I hissed, gripping Arthur hard enough to tear his shirt.

I didn't have time to kill him - not without police being right on our asses. Not without putting her in more danger.

I tossed him sideways into the shitty dresser, ignoring his cry out of pain, and turned to face Charlotte.

I stepped closer, some of the violence softening in my shoulders as I held out a tattooed hand towards her. "Let's go, Char."