Page 7 of Ravaged From Fate

I simply raise the bottle of beer to my lips and watch as these men walk over to these women on the other side of the bar.

When I entered the place, I did notice those two women in the booth. One of them even looked right at me. I had to stare back. She is gorgeous, even though she appears tired and worn out. Straight brown hair. Blue eyes. She’s very clearly just finished work for the day and is winding down in this bar, but by God, she is a beauty.

Don’t get involved, Caspian. Don’t get involved.

It’s the first time I’ve dared to step into this bar since relocating to East Springs. The local guidebook I purchased in the one store in town says that this is the only bar in East Springs and the surrounding area. I’ve been thinking that if I am to tie my roots down here, then I’ve got to make myself a regular in this place. I gotta act like a normal regular person and not like some super-wealthy former rockstar recluse. No one in this town has an inkling of who I am, and I very much intend to keep it that way.

Don’t get involved.

I had thought tonight would be an easy weekday night with some quiet beers. A simple introduction to this bar. Maybe a chance to get to know one or two regulars and have a shallow chat with the bartender but, with these dodgy-looking guys heading across the room to seemingly harass these poor women, I already have the sinking feeling that my night is about to take a drastic turn for the worse.

Here we go. As if on cue.

I don’t want trouble, but somehow trouble always finds its way to me. I don’t want to get involved, but things are starting to turn.

I can hear the leader of the men – some tall skinny man with a gaudy face tattoo – say to the cute woman that he wants to have a drink with her. Before she can answer, he plonks his ass down next to her in the booth. Judging from the expression on her face, they are not friends. Not remotely. He mutters something else to her. I can’t hear this one. His friends gather around the table, trapping the two women in their seats. I see the leader grab the woman’s arm and pull her face close to his. She’s clearly repelled by him.

“Get off me,” she says.

Well, I can certainly hear that one.

That’s my cue. I’ve waited long enough.

Too fucking long.

I glance around at the other patrons in the bar. People have clearly noticed what is going on in the booth, but no one is daring to lift a finger to help the women. I don’t blame them. Five scary-looking, probably drugged-up dudes are not an enticing prospect, even for me, but I have dealt with worse in my time.

I take in a deep breath.

Time to get involved.

I hope to God what happens next doesn’t blow my cover in East Springs. The next few minutes are going to be very dangerous for me. I’ve worked hard to set myself up in this small town. Incremental careful steps to integrate myself here. That could all get ruined if I turn the spotlight on myself.

But what choice do I have?

I slide off the bar stool and begin to move over.

No one notices me approach, and that’s how I plan it. I’m a big guy, but I know how to be silent and stealthy when needed.

They won’t know what’s happening until it’s too late.

I really don’t want to intervene in some bar situation that has nothing to do with me, but I know I have no choice. I can’t sit here while these women get harassed in front of my very eyes. I can’t leave this bar knowing that they’re getting abused and I’m doing nothing to stop it.

The tattoo guy reaches down to grope the woman’s breast, but I move quicker. I brush past his goons and grab his hand with my own. I pull it away, and then let go.

I don’t want to make this more aggressive than it needs to be.

Fat chance.

“I think she doesn’t want you touching her, brother,” I growl at the man. “Maybe it’s time for you gentlemen to walk away.”

Sword Face glares up at me for a moment, and then he stands. I get what he’s doing. Trying to assert his dominance. Regain his masculinity in this situation.

But I am taller. And bigger.

Those two facts don’t intimidate the guy, though. He’s got four of his friends with him. He outnumbers me, and he knows it.

And he isn’t about to forgive me for touching him.