A Shot at Love

Fighting for Her

"Justin, get off of me!" I plead, my hands pushing against his biceps, but it's like pressing against a wall. My strength is no match for his. "Stop it!"

His breath reeks of vodka—sour, heavy. He pulls me closer, his body weight bearing down on mine. "Don't fight it, King," he murmurs, "I know you want me, too. Let's just start over, okay? Please, babe."

My heart races as he thrusts me onto the bed, his hands locking around my arms, pinning me down. He strokes my hair, his fingers grazing my scalp in a way that feels more like a threat than affection. His other hand keeps me trapped beneath him.

"I swear to God, Justin, let me go—now!" I scream, my voice cracking with anger. My nails sink into his wrist, but he doesn't flinch. "Are you on drugs again?!" I hiss, my eyes narrowing as I spot the white powder beneath his nostril.

I can't believe this is happening. I never thought we'd be here again—not after everything he went through in rehab. Back when I was in high school and Justin was in college, his coke addiction nearly destroyed the family. His mom fought the same demons. After that winter rehab, I truly believed he was done. But now? It's as if none of it ever happened. We're right back where we started.

An ominous chuckle rumbles from his chest. "You need to lighten up, King. I saw the way you were looking at me tonight. You're not fooling anyone."

"Justin," my voice trembles, and tears begin to well in my eyes. "Please, get off of me!"

He sneers, his grip tightening around my arms with an unbreakable hold. "I'm so much better for you than him. He's a player, babe. He will never love you like I do," Justin growls, his breath foul with alcohol.

Before I can react, he lunges down to kiss me again. I twist my head, trying with everything I have to break free, but his strength overpowers me. My heart races, panic surging through me as I struggle beneath him.

"Stop it!" I shout, desperation clawing at my throat.

I feel the sudden shift of his weight, a rush of air filling my lungs as Justin is yanked off of me. My hands tremble as I push myself upright, blinking through the haze of shock. For a split second, I can't register what's happening, who's doing what. And then, I hear it.

Noah.

His eyes are burning with fury, and his face flushed with rage. "She said to stop!" Noah yells, gripping Justin's shoulder and yanking him back with surprising strength. Noah's muscles tense as he fights to pull me free from this nightmare.

But Justin doesn't go quietly—his body jerks, like a wild animal fighting for its life. With a throaty growl, he launches at Noah, aiming straight for his core. The collision happens so fast, that Noah has no time to brace himself. Justin's shoulder drives into Noah's midsection, knocking the air out of him. The force of it sends Noah crashing backward into my dresser. I watch in horror as Noah gasps for breath, his chest rising and falling erratically.

Without waiting for Noah to recover, Justin shoves him again, pushing him out of the room and into the hallway. The doorframe thuds with the force of their bodies slamming through it. I can't look away as they crash, the sickening sound of fists connecting, grunts of exertion, and that frantic rush of breath —it's like everything's happening in slow motion. Justin comes back with a vengeance, his elbow striking Noah square in the jaw, and blood splashes from his mouth.

"Stop! Please!" I scream, panic rising in my chest as I rush toward them.

Noah stumbles back, his face already marked by the brutal blow, but he's not backing down. He wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, steadying himself, though the pain is evident in his eyes. His breath is heavy, his jaw clenched, but there's a calmness in his voice when he speaks, even if it's strained. "Justin," Noah grits out, his voice low like he's negotiating with a child. "Let's just end this. There's no need for it to go any further."