The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 192

When Petty was first tackled, she honestly thought it was Malcom. Deep down, she always believed he would come through for her. The last time she was in trouble, even though he had been giving her the cold shoulder, he’d shown up right when she needed him, stepping in front of her like she knew he would.

Harris was the last person she expected. But there he was, holding her close, shielding her from the attack. In one smooth move, he grabbed a steel pipe from the ground. When someone charged, he swung back hard, knocking the guy down before kicking another to the floor.

But these guys weren’t messing around at all. They were here to hurt, and they fought without hesitation. Harris worked out, sure, but he wasn’t a fighter, not really. Up against professional killers, he could barely keep up.

Aaron’s backup managed to hold the line, but they couldn’t shift the momentum. They were just barely keeping things from getting worse.

All of a sudden, a man in black—cap pulled low, mask covering his face, gloves gripping tightly—picked up a stray steel pipe. He spun it at his waist, taking out the men coming at him from both sides in a blur of movement. When two more swung at him, he caught their pipes and slammed their heads together. Both hit the ground with a cry and didn’t get back up.

Petty stared at that tall, powerful figure. For a moment, she couldn’t look away.

Aaron’s eyes went wide. “J!”

Petty could barely believe it. Malcom was here. He hadn’t gone off on a mission like she’d thought. But why hadn’t he called or messaged, not her or even Aaron?

Now, with Malcom in the fight, everything turned around in an instant. Suddenly, their attackers didn’t stand a chance.

Petty finally pulled away from the scene and noticed Harris was still holding her tight. She placed a steady hand on his arm, her voice filled with certainty. “It’s okay, Harris. Malcom’s here now. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Harris glanced over at the man in the cap, recognizing impressive skill in every move. Then he let Petty go, careful and gentle. “Are you hurt?”

Petty shook her head, but her gaze dropped to his right hand. His pinky was bent at a strange angle—a pretty bad injury.

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