Chapter 4(iii) – Echoes Between Us (iii)
POV: Luke
The sun was crawling to its peak, casting sharp shadows between cracked buildings and broken glass. Our group was quieter than earlier, the stretch of silence weighing heavier with each step. Still, I could feel something building—something small.
Jonah was walking a few paces ahead of me, casually scanning the ruins like he Grey usually did, arms slightly loose, jaw clenched. His dry sarcasm usually kept the mood light, but something about the new group walking close behind us kept things tense.
Then it started.
"Whatchu looking at?" one of the men from the other group barked. Mid-thirties maybe, but already hardened, his eyes too bloodshot for this early in the day. He was looking at Jonah.
Jonah turned, eyebrow raised, the corner of his lip twitching into a dry smirk. "Nothing, man."
The guy stopped walking. "You mocking me? What, mama didn't teach you respect, boy?"
It happened fast. Jonah barely moved his weight before lunging, catching the guy off-guard. A quick, lucky kick slammed into the guy's knee, sending him down with a yell.
But he recovered quickly. Pushed himself up, fists clenched—
Grey was already in motion.
His hand shot out, grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and slammed him against a rusted car door. The echo cracked down the street. Grey didn't say a word. His elbow followed next—clean, sharp, and meant to be remembered. The guy dropped.
The air changed instantly. Shouts erupted. Movement blurred.
Someone else charged. Scarlett swept a leg and cracked a knee sideways with a cold precision that made my skin crawl. I found myself locked in with another man who came at me. Jane surprised me with a wild but clean kick that forced him to stagger back. Another one came from behind, but blair caught him with a shoulder and knocked him over.
Grey was at the center, not flinching, not hesitating. When one man reached for a knife, Grey ripped it from his hand and shoved it into the wall next to his head—just close enough to make a point. The guy froze.
"Enough!" A woman's voice shattered the moment. One of the men's wives—maybe the only reason it ended at all.
They were on the ground—five of them, seriously hurt. Broken ribs. Dislocated shoulders. One had a nose bent sideways like it was made of wax. We were all breathing heavy. Sweat, blood, heat.
No one said anything when we walked away.
A few blocks down, Jonah let out a weak, "My bad."
That broke it.
Scarlett laughed under her breath. Jane shook her head, still riding the fight's adrenaline. Even Grey had something like a smirk—barely there, but real.
"Glad you didn't kick him in the balls," Blair said to Jonah.
"Didn't get the angle," Jonah muttered.
"Still impressive," Blair said.
I glanced over at Grey. He was quiet again, but different now. Not as distant.
"We're close," he said. Voice calm, not cold.
Everyone quieted a little. Hope had that effect, even when it didn't feel earned.
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