His text does for me what Brenna’s can’t: make me feel cared for, and make me care back.
Keeping my distance from him isn’t going to work, not when we’re in constant contact, anyway. But I can’t bother worrying now. Kill John’s motorcade is in sight.
The crowd erupts into pandemonium. Girls scream, shoving turns rough. All of us are so packed together that we seem to undulate like a raging sea.
I brace my feet and start snapping, capturing chaos.
The first large SUV pulls up to the curb. The guys are in there. Gabriel, Jules, and Brenna will be in the next one.
Jax is the first to exit, and it’s like he’s touched a live wire to the crowd. Everything amps up. My view behind the camera shakes as I’m jostled. But I get the shot of Jax’s face—the flinch and then the smoothing of his features into some bland neutrality. He smiles, but he’s not really there.
None of the guys are. Not this time. The crowd is just too wild for them to linger. They move toward me at a steady pace. At my back, people shove and push. I’m in a good spot and clearly that’s not sitting well with more than a few girls.
“I can’t see!”
“Get out of the way!”
“Move, I was here first.”
“Fuck you.”
Those last two were not aimed at me, but I’m in the middle of it. Suddenly arms are flailing, hands slapping. I duck a few blows and edge away. But that fuckface Thompson shoves me right back into it. I’m glaring at him when someone grabs my hair and pulls. Hard.
Tears prickle behind my lids, my scalp screaming. I lower my head and twist my body, my elbow connecting with the wrist of my hair puller. The girl lets go with a squawk.
Someone grabs for my camera, and I slap the hand away. Around me, other fights break out.
In my periphery, I see Jax. His gaze catches mine, and he frowns, slowing down.
No, no, no. Get out of here.
The other guys are pausing too, seeing me in the melee. Not good. The crowd surges again, crushing me into Thompson and a security guard. A blow hits me right in the eye, and I see stars. It hurts so badly, I cry out. Another blow comes. Pain sparkles and tears.
It occurs to me that Thompson just elbowed me twice. He actually hit me.
I’m about to rip into him, when a body pushes between us with enough force to send Thompson sprawling on his ass. Gabriel stands before me with an expression of rage so fierce my skin prickles.
I can only blink up at him before he grabs me close and hauls me up in his arms.
I will not swoon.
But my head falls to his shoulder. And I cling. Because he is a wall against the world. My wall. He moves through the crowd without pause, and they get out of his way, instinctively knowing he will mow them down if they don’t.
One snarling look at security has them hustling us to a door that leads to a quiet, dark hall. Compared to the bright heat of the lights and noise of chaos outside, it’s like a balm to my tense body. I sag further into Gabriel’s hold.
He doesn’t stop but marches along, muttering under his breath. It’s a stream of pissed off motherfuckers and bloody stupid and son of a bitch mixed with other choice words. I let his low growls flow over me like warm hands.
My heart is still racing, and I’m shivering. I don’t want to. I want to be strong. But the adrenaline is wearing off, and I’ve no place to go but down.
The side of my face throbs like a heartbeat, pain punching out in all directions. I think about Thompson elbowing me and whimper despite my anger.
Gabriel’s arms squeeze around me. “Hush, now. I’ve got you.”
We enter Kill John’s dressing room, and the guys are instantly up and surrounding us.
“What the fuck was that shit? What happened to Sophie?” Jax says, peering at me. “You all right, honey?”
“It is bloody apparent that she is not,” Gabriel snaps at him as he pushes past and sets me down on a chair.
“Fuck. That was a disaster,” Killian mutters. “Shit crowd control. We should have pulled you in with us, Sophie.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I say weakly as Gabriel kneels before me, his gaze darting over my face. “You would have been mobbed.”
“They wouldn’t have hurt us.” Rye looks sick, his golden complexion pasty as his gaze lingers on me.
“You don’t know that.”
Gabriel scowls and thumbs aside a lock of my hair. “Got you good, chatty girl.” Anger radiates over his frame. “You’re bleeding.”
“Here.” Whip hands him a first aid kit and gives me a smile. “Babe, you stick with us from now on, right?”
My lip wobbles. “Right.”
“I want to go back there and kick some ass,” Brenna mutters. She’s lost her glasses, and her hair is mussed. I hadn’t even noticed her in the scuffle. She hands me a cold compress. “Those fuckwads.”
From behind her, Libby watches with wide eyes, as does Jules. They’re all watching, sadly looking at my face. I duck my head.
“All right,” Gabriel says in a firm tone. “Let’s give Sophie some room. Go about your business.”