Camden
A commotion next door grabs my attention. There's yelling and cursing, all coming from Tate's house. Setting my dinner aside I peek through the curtains and find two people in Tate's front yard. It's so dark I can't make out what is going on, but it doesn't look good.
Turning the porch light on, I step outside, the unmistaken sound of a fist connecting with bone being heard and a rush of energy surges through me.
Moving quick off the porch steps, I head onto the Davis's yard, and my heart stops. A big mother fucker has Tate pinned to the ground, and is trying to secure her hands above her head. My eyes widen and mouth parts as I start that way, ready to end the life of whoever is on top of her.
Her wrists being so tiny, she slips through and punches the guy in the face so hard he wavers.
Like a match igniting gasoline I sprint forward. The need to protect Tate my only thought, bad blood between us is history. Nobody touches her but me.