Chapter 102 No One Touches You But Me
Daniel: POV
I saw red the moment I spotted Trevor straddling Alex, his hand creeping under Alex's shirt. Something primal took over—a rage I couldn't contain.
Without thinking, I charged forward, my boot connecting with Trevor's ribs in a solid kick that sent him tumbling off Alex.
"Touch him again," I growled, barely recognizing my own voice, "and I'll break every finger you have."
Trevor scrambled to his feet, clutching his side where my boot had landed. The smug, predatory look on his face morphed into something darker. "What the fuck, man? This is none of your business!"
I positioned myself between him and Alex, fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. "You assaulting my best friend? That's absolutely my fucking business."
I glanced quickly at Alex, who was still on the ground, looking dazed and disheveled. The sight of dirt smeared across his face, his shirt partially ripped, sent another wave of fury through me.
"You okay?" I asked, not taking my eyes off Trevor.
"Yeah," Alex managed, his voice shaky as he stood up.
Trevor's lips curled into a sneer. "Your best friend, huh? Is that what we're calling it? Everyone can see there's more between you two."
I didn't bother responding to his bullshit. Instead, I lunged forward and landed a solid punch to his jaw. The impact sent a shock up my arm, but the satisfaction of watching his head snap back was worth it.
For the past two weeks, I'd been watching Trevor like a hawk. Something about the way he looked at Alex—calculating, hungry—had set off alarm bells from day one. I'd made sure to stay awake each night until I was certain Alex was asleep, keeping an ear out for any sign of trouble in that tent they shared.
Tonight, when I saw Trevor leading Alex away from camp, something didn't feel right. The way Alex's shoulders had been tensed, how Trevor walked just a step too close behind him—it all screamed danger.
I'd followed at a distance, careful to stay hidden among the cacti and rock formations. When I saw Trevor tackle Alex to the ground, pin him down while he struggled... I snapped.
Trevor wiped blood from his lip, eyes narrowing. "You're dead, Morgan." He charged at me, surprisingly quick, landing a solid hit to my stomach that knocked the wind out of me.
I doubled over, gasping. Shit, he was stronger than he looked. Before I could recover, he threw another punch that caught me in the cheek.
I stumbled backward, tasting blood. Trevor advanced, throwing a flurry of punches. I blocked most, but a few connected, sending sharp pain through my ribs and jaw.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Trevor taunted, landing another hit to my side. "When I'm done with you, I'll finish what I started with your lover."
The word 'lover' hit me like a physical blow, but it also made my blood boil. I forced myself to stay calm though. Getting angry would make me sloppy. Instead, I remembered my training.
I'd studied Brazilian jiu-jitsu throughout college—a fact Trevor clearly didn't know. I feinted left, then spun right, my elbow catching him square in the solar plexus. He gasped, doubling over, and I followed up with a knee to his face that sent blood streaming from his nose.
"That all you got?" I taunted, spitting blood onto the desert floor.
Trevor's face contorted with rage, blood dripping down his chin. He charged again, but this time I was ready. I sidestepped, grabbing his extended arm and using his momentum to flip him over my hip. He landed hard on his back, the impact knocking the air from his lungs with a satisfying wheeze.
Before he could recover, I twisted his arm into a painful lock, applying pressure to his elbow joint. "Tap out," I demanded.
Instead of surrendering, Trevor bucked wildly, breaking my hold and scrambling to his feet. He charged again, tackling me to the ground. We rolled in the dirt, trading blows, neither gaining a clear advantage. His fist caught my temple, making stars explode across my vision, but I managed to hook my leg around his and flip our positions.
Suddenly, Trevor's weight disappeared. Alex had joined the fight, kicking Trevor off me with surprising force, his boot connecting with Trevor's kidney.
"Two against one?" Trevor snarled, backing away slightly, clutching his lower back. "Real fair."
"Was it fair when you pinned me down?" Alex shot back, helping me to my feet. His voice was steady now, anger replacing the fear.
Trevor looked between us, calculating his odds. Blood streamed from his nose, and I could see him favoring his left side where Alex had kicked him.
I said, my voice low and dangerous. “After all these years, I know better than to ever cross his boundaries. What makes you think you can?”
Something flashed in Trevor's eyes—surprise, maybe even understanding.
"Fuck both of you," he spat, backing away. "I'm out of here." He turned and stalked off toward camp, his silhouette soon swallowed by the desert night.
For a moment, Alex and I just stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still pumping through our veins. Then, without warning, Alex started laughing. It was a slightly hysterical sound, born of relief and lingering fear.
"What's so funny?" I asked, wiping blood from my split lip.
"Us," he gasped between laughs. "Fighting like that. When was the last time we did this together?"
I couldn't help it—his laughter was infectious. Soon I was chuckling too, despite the pain in my ribs. "That time with the shoplifter, right? Behind Pike's Market?"
Alex collapsed onto the sandy ground, staring up at the stars. "God, yes! That guy stole that old lady's purse, and we chased him for like six blocks."
I dropped down beside him, wincing slightly. "You tripped him with your backpack, and I tackled him into that pile of empty boxes."
"And the cop thought we were all fighting each other," Alex finished, his laughter softening to a chuckle.
We lay there side by side, staring up at the endless canopy of stars that only the desert can provide. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like spilled paint, more brilliant than any city dweller ever gets to see.
"Thanks," Alex said after a while, his voice serious now. "For following us. For... you know."
"Always," I replied simply. It was the truth. I would always be there for him, whether he wanted me that way or not.
We fell into a comfortable silence, neither of us eager to return to camp and face what had happened. Finally, Alex sighed.
"I can't go back to that tent," he admitted. "Not with him there."
I turned my head to look at him, his profile illuminated by moonlight. "Stay in mine," I offered, trying to sound casual. "Brian snores, but it's better than the alternative."
Alex hesitated, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "I don't know..."
"I can sleep outside if you want," I added quickly. "You can have the tent."
"No," he said finally. "I guess we don't have much choice." He turned to face me, his expression suddenly stern. "But no funny business, alright? I'm still not... I still don't really know how I feel about everything."
"Just friends," I assured him, ignoring the familiar ache in my chest. "I promised, remember?"