His blood boiled, his knuckles nearly burst through his skin from how tightly he was holding his handlebars, and his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. All he could think about was that his daughter Fallina’s friend, Violet, had called him saying that a man was attacking Fallina and refusing to leave. He was replaying the voicemail he’d listened to just moments before getting on his Harley and heading to where his sixteen-year-old daughter and her best friend were.
He turned onto Violet’s street, saw her small house in the distance, and felt his rage increase. He hadn’t called the club, hadn’t let The Brothers of Menace know because after he had gotten the voicemail he had hauled ass over here. He didn’t even know if he could talk to his club right now. All he saw was red, and all he wanted to do was break the motherfucker’s body that had thought he could touch his little girl or her fragile friend.
Pulling into the cracked and worn-down driveway he cut the engine and climbed off his bike. The house was a piece of shit, and the only reason he allowed his daughter or Violet to be here was because Violet’s piece of shit father wasn’t home. She’d been at the house to grab things for an extended weekend stay at his place, as the two girls were like sisters given how close they were. And now some motherfucker wanted to take from them what they weren’t willingly offering. Fuck no. Blood would definitely be shed today.
Before he could even storm up the driveway and into the house a man was stumbling out of the front door, a knife cut on his arm, and his buttons undone. He turned and grabbed Fallina, tried pulling her forward, and Cain saw red. He recognized the asshole as one of Violet’s neighbors and her junkie father’s friends. The bastard was clearly drunk or high, because he had to brace a hand on the side of the house to steady himself.
“You motherfucking cock-sucker,” Cain roared out and charged forward. He was vaguely aware through the haze of rage filling his head that Violet stood in the doorway. She held the knife clearly used to cut this prick. He didn’t want her to watch what was about to go down right now, but he also couldn’t stop himself. The bastard lifted his head, but Cain was already on him. He grabbed the hair behind the man’s head, and in one quick move slammed his forehead into the side of the house. Cain used so much force that part of the side became disengaged.
“Get the hell off me,” the drunk slurred out, and the stench of alcohol and stale sweat filled Cain’s nose.
He slammed the fucker’s head on the pavement, over and over again until the guy struggled even less. Blood coated the cracked and already grease stained pavement. The gurgling sound coming from the asshole that had crossed the line and fucked with his little girl and Violet told Cain that he would soon be lying here lifeless, silent.
He was aware of the sound of sirens in the distance, but he didn’t care if the police were coming right now. Cain needed to finish this, to give his little girl and Violet peace of mind that no one would be able to fuck with them and not pay the price. Taking out his blade from his boot, he pulled the other man’s head back, exposing his throat. Right when he brought the knife to the fucker’s neck, the sound of shouting filled his head. He looked up, saw a swarm of police in front of the house, and neighbors that had come out of their crappy little houses to watch the drama.
“Dad,” Fallina said, but his head was filled with this white noise, of his heart beating, and of his rage consuming him.
“Put down the weapon and stand slowly, hands behind your head.”
Cain stared at the police officer that spoke, and although he wanted to kill this bastard, he also looked over his shoulder and saw Fallina and Violet watching him with wide eyes.
“Do as we say. Drop the weapon, stand with your hands on your head, and face the house.”
He wanted this asshole dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his life while two sixteen-year-olds watched. Dropping the knife was one of the hardest fucking things he had ever done. He slammed the fucker’s face on the cement once more, slowly stood with his hands in the air, and did what the police shouted out. He stared at his daughter and Violet, seeing the looks on their faces, of the torn clothing on Fallina, and the bruise on Violet’s cheek. These two girls didn’t deserve any of this, and he had made it worse.
He focused on those two young women, mouthed to them that everything would be okay, and then felt the cops swarm on him and throw him on the ground. Whatever the fuck happened, he knew both of the girls would be okay. He’d make sure they were safe, make sure the club looked out for them, and that no one would ever fuck with them again.