Bloodtide

Part 43

We walked back into town, my hood pulled low as I tried to shake the uneasy feeling that someone was following us. John seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

"Catch you in the morning. The meeting will be long," Bonham whispered as we paused under the bridge. The area felt uncomfortably sketchy, and I was eager to leave.

The shadows grew deeper, and I saw more men moving in the darkness—furtive glances and the ominous scrape of boots against cobblestone. My anxiety spiked.

"John," I said, grabbing his arm. He brushed me off, still distracted. "I think—"

Before I could finish, heavy footsteps echoed from the alleyways. Figures emerged, menacing and armed, surrounding us. My heart pounded as I recognized the danger.

"Stay behind me," John said firmly, positioning himself in front of me. His hand moved to his weapon with a practiced ease, his gaze scanning the attackers with a fierce intensity that made me realize how deeply he cared.

The first attacker lunged at John, but he intercepted the blow with a brutal swing of his blade, sending the man crashing into the street. Another attacker swung a heavy club, but John dodged and struck back with a decisive blow, knocking the man into the wall.

I knew I had to defend myself. Grabbing a loose brick, I faced an attacker coming toward me. My hands were shaking, but I swung the brick with all my strength. It struck him in the side, causing him to stagger. He recovered quickly and lunged at me. I kicked him in the shin, desperately trying to fend him off.

John's attention shifted to me as he saw the struggle. His face was etched with worry as he fought off another attacker with ruthless efficiency. His movements were a mix of precise strikes and fierce protectiveness, as if every blow he landed was partly aimed at keeping me safe.

One attacker got too close, and John intercepted him with a powerful shoulder check. He grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back behind him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

I nodded, though my breath came in short, shaky gasps. "I'm okay. I just—"

John's eyes were filled with a mix of relief and frustration. "Don't try to fight them. Just stay behind me."

I watched as he dealt with the last of the attackers with a ferocity that left no doubt about his dedication to protecting me. His fierce determination and the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. I saw him in a new light—more than just a man with a casual demeanor, but someone who would go to great lengths for those he cared about.

As the last attacker fell, John turned to me, his expression softening slightly but still tense. He looked me over, his worry palpable. "We need to get out of here. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice steadying as I looked at him. "Thanks to you."

John nodded, his focus shifting back to the surroundings. As we moved away from the scene, the protective nature he had shown tonight deepened my understanding of him.

I reached my hand to touch his cheek, where a cut marred his skin. "You're hurt," I said softly, my fingers brushing against his face.

John flinched slightly at the contact but then nodded. "Let's get out of here," he said, grabbing my arm and guiding me through the darkened streets with a sense of urgency.

We made our way to a small, discreet hotel. John quickly arranged for a room, his attention divided between the receptionist and checking on me. Once we were inside, the adrenaline of the fight began to fade, leaving him visibly tense.