Chapter 17: SECURITY IN NUMBERS

Rune’s face shakes Noah to the core.

But he keeps a straight face as he’s shoved in the van. 

He feels a sharp point resting against his back, and he looks at Silas. He’s tired, fatigued, and he just wants to sleep, but he offers the man a wide smile. Noah’s lips are cracked and dry, and they hurt as he stretches the grimace, turning the expression into a disfigured mock.

He’s fine with this.

The migraine is extending over his eyes, and the back of the neck.

The interior of the van smells like Sam’s unused flat, the same stale quality to it, like they don’t care for dust. He coughs, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. On the outside, he can still hear Sam’s strident voice, and his annoying laugh.

Sam thinks he’s won.

He really hasn’t, though.

After a few minutes, the door slides open, and the street lights blend into the shadows of the vehicle. The neon cars surround his figure, creating a halo around him. A soldier prepared for war. His expression is cold and unfazed, as if the terror in his eyes weren’t ever there. They exchange glances, and Noah shakes his head. But Rune darts his eyes to Sam.

His frame is majestic. His pale skin glows with the vibrance of the neon lights. Like a statue, like a guardian that devour travelers if they don’t respond to his riddle. But this time, Noah isn’t the subject of his scrutiny, at least for now. Rune’s eyes pierce Sam, and they threaten without words. 

They stare at each other, measuring, evaluating.

Rune’s dark hair dances, the music of the night’s hot breeze its rhythm. Some locks whip at his forehead, and Noah has the urge to reach out. His lips are slightly parted, with a tense jaw. Through the cuffs of the bomber jacket, Noah can see the tendrils of ink. His neck twitches with the tenseness of a feline predator before the blow. 

Sam isn’t really paying attention to the absolute danger of Rune. Maybe, Noah thinks with a wild rage, he’s spent so many time underestimating him that he’s forgotten. A caged beast is still a beast, if not a more dangerous one.

Noah can only gape at him, at his posture, at his power. The view takes his breath away.

The butterfly knife glistens in Rune’s hand. 

He’s not wielding the weapon, just holding it in a casual manner, and twirling it in between his fingers. He tilts his head, taking in all of Sam. He blinks slowly, as if the matter bores him to his bones. He raises the knife, resting the blade against Sam’s shirt. Around him, the people murmur.

Sam looks back at Noah, with a sideways smile. And Noah’s fear stirs inside him, the disgust sticking to his skin. 

Noah ignores the warning of Silas and climbs down, approaching the two. He maintains a bored expression, his best rendition of Rune’s own face in his own. He places a hand in Sam’s shoulder.

“Well? Are you going to serve me? I’m getting hot, and you know revenge is best served cold.” He whispers the words, low enough to keep the conversation in the trio, without curious ears standing in the way. He leans in Sam back, and he adds suggestively. “Don’t you want to claim me? Do it.”

Sam smiles, and Noah’s stomach clenches. “You’d want that, right?” He pauses, placing his arm on Noah’s shoulders, and nibbling his ear, the whispering, “But Andrew here wants to come with us.”

At that, Noah jumps, shoving Sam. “Didn’t I tell you to stop harassing him?”

Sam shoves him back, “Listen, you idiot, Andrew is mine. Only mine. Nobody can have him.”

It all happens in an instant, before Noah can process it. His body reacts before his mind reaches a conclusion. He punches Sam in the face, the force of impact sending pain shooting up his forearm. He shouts, because of pain, because of rage, because of the disgusting feeling, the void in his chest, the anxiety tearing at his throat. He feels something tearing inside his hoodie. “You don’t get to say that.” He shouts, lunging at him, taking a fistful of his shirt, pushing his back to the van. “You don’t get to claim, you don’t get to own. Okay, motherfucker?” He punches him once more, his eyes blurry with tears.

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“If Rune decides you don’t deserve his time, then I’ll make sure you don’t get to waste his effort, energy, and time.” Noah says with a snarl. “Your club? That is your lesson for today.” He whispers, venom in his words, in his heart, in his eyes. And then, he knows. Even with the fatigue creeping up in his muscles, he realizes he wouldn’t change anything in the night. “I’ll burn everything you care about. For every time you disrespect him, I’ll take one thing away from you.”

A hand clasps in his wrist, and he whips his head to find black eyes staring at him. “It’s enough.” 

“No, it’s not.” He responds, looking back at Sam, pointing a finger at him. “People recoil at your mere existence with disgust because you’re a creepy pig. You think just about anyone would fuck you, but please, don’t underestimate people’s taste.”

Rune is dragging him out of there, but he’s resisting with all his might, the adrenaline alive and hungry. Silas walks up to him, one hand closing around his neck in a deadly hold. With strangled voice, he directs his rage at Sam’s man, “Silas, fucking idiot, I enjoy this.” His tears are rivers in his cheeks. Noah smacks Silas’s hand, and the man releases him without further fight, looking bewildered. 

A silver flash in his periphery vision, but he turns too slow, with just enough time to see the knife in Sam’s hand descend, with a direct path to Noah’s chest. Noah closes his eyes, ready for the blow, bracing for impact, his mind clear. 

However, the knife doesn’t sink in his flesh. Noah opens an eye to see what the deal is. The weapon is frozen mid air, stopped by an unmovable force. The unbreakable presence by his side. Noah looks at Rune. One of his arms is blocking Sam’s blow, while the other is in front of Noah, warning everyone to stay away.

“Stay behind me,” he says loud enough for Sam to hear. And to the latter, “Stay away from my people.”

His words are ice, burning deep and containing rage. The fire in Noah’s veins dances, the flames chanting at Rune’s rhythm. And he knows, deep inside, in the darkest part of his being, in the primitive side of his core, that he’d go down with him. He’d gladly do so. However, he doesn’t want to think of the implications of the tingles in his stomach, of this feverish determination.

Rune’s danger, and Noah has denied himself the thrill of it. He backed out of a thousand battles before dying, because fear was stronger, and with a wild rage, he recognizes the anger of a thousand wounds that haven’t healed, the energy of a life drowned, the desperation of survival shouting to get out. 

“We’ll survive, this time, it will be different,” the words speak of a truth far more greater than Sam and Noah himself, it speaks of a time Noah has forgotten, but that is still tender in his being. “I will protect those I care about. I’ll change things.”

Rune takes a hold of his wrist, and Noah lets him drag him towards Eve and Duncan. “You’re going to explain to me.” Rune says with a low voice, a undeniable demand in his tone that won’t accept any more delays. “You’re different.”

Sam is shouting at Silas, his eyes wide, his hand wiping his nose. He locks target in Noah, ready for another round, his energy everlasting thanks to the high. It’s Duncan who steps in front of Rune and Noah, his fists clenched, and he kicks Sam in the stomach, launching him to the floor ass first. “Enough, okay?”

Rune walks past Eve, still gripping Noah as if he’s afraid he’ll run away at the slightest of chances. The aftereffect of adrenaline is slowly draining away now that the danger has been controlled. Behind him, Duncan and Sam are fist fighting, Eve is cheering for her boyfriend, her fists pumping at the rhythm of her shouts. 

Noah had underestimated Riley’s friends. Maybe because seeing their soft side had biased his perspective. Having them close made him forget what it was like to have them as potential enemies, the suspicion and danger, the threat on Duncan’s stance while he leaned on the bathroom doorframe at the hospital. Noah still remembers that first impression.

But seeing Duncan punching Sam, and Eve’s rage and excitement, he smiles. 

Maybe Noah and Riley’s friends are not so different after all. He wonders what might have been of him if he had known them before his death. 

Rune tugs, ordering Noah to get on the Corvette, but he raises a fist before abandoning the battle, shouting, “Duncan, go hard.”

Silas has joined the fight by now, and Eve takes that as a sign to jump in. 

The crowd is already encouraging the fight, after Sam’s shocking entrance. 

This night, the races are not the main part of the event.

They’re savages.

And, being a savage himself, Noah feels deep inside, between the fear and the anger, a sense of belonging.

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