Chapter 38
Nina’s POV
The iron poker whistled through the air again, striking Marco’s shoulder with a wet crack. Blood sprayed in a fine red mist, splattering the concrete floor and the hem of my oversized uniform pants. Marco howled, curling inward, but the chef raised the weapon once more, face twisted in protective fury.
The old man’s arm trembled with the effort, veins bulging along his forearm, white hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and the thin trickle of his own blood.
“Stop!” I screamed, voice raw and breaking. “Please stop!”
The chef hesitated for half a second long enough for Marco to groan and try to crawl away. But the biker was already moving. He shoved past me in a blur of black leather and motor oil scent, boots thudding heavy on the floor.
His gloved ha
