Embracing His Syn (Nothing Special 2)

Furi brought his knee up but ended up hitting Patrick in the thigh, completely missing his nuts. Fuck. Furi was ready to accept the inevitable when he heard the back door to the bar slam open and saw a dark figure barreling toward them, knocking Patrick to the ground with a hard blow to his ribs. Furi looked up into Syn’s scowling face, his black irises shimmering with anger. Holy shit. Syn reached out and pulled Furi to him. He did a quick perusal of his body before tucking him behind him like he always did. Brenden was the first to move in and Syn pushed Furi back, readying himself for the attack.

Syn had walked back into the pub and saw Furi wasn’t behind the bar. What really caught his attention was the two brick shit-houses in suits that were sitting there before were also missing. Syn’s sixth sense, the one that had always kept him two steps ahead, was propelling him forward, telling him to move faster. Syn ignored the curious glance from Furi’s uncle behind the bar, as he rushed toward the back door, pulling out his two-way radio as he ran. He heard the chirp and spoke into the receiver, “God, step on it. I think I got a problem.”

“On it,” God answered back in a serious tone.

Syn burst through the door at full speed and quickly took in the scene at the end of the alley. One of the men had his thick hands around Furi’s neck, choking the life out of him, yelling in his face about ‘never leaving him again.’ Shit, Furi’s husband. The other guy was leaning up against the brick wall holding one of his knees, looking pale and sick from pain. Syn figured he’d worry about him later. He hurled his fist into the ribcage of the man holding Furi, and he went down from the momentum of the blow but Syn knew he only had a few seconds before Ex-husband recovered and was back up again. But his first priority was Furi. For the most part he looked alright, there was no blood or bruising so Syn placed himself in front of his man and trained his eyes back on the two men who were staring at him in shock and rage.

“There must be a misunderstanding. This is no business of yours.”

“And you are?” Syn gritted through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer to that question, trying to stall a few minutes to get his anger under control.

“No one of consequence to you. But you’re standing between me and my husband, so I’m going to give you one chance to leave.”

Syn shook his head slowly. “You got that wrong. I’m standing between you and your ex-husband.” In that moment Syn saw the man’s eye’s go from an intriguing light gray to a haunting ashen gray like the sky before a thunderstorm. He was angry and Syn knew things were about to take a turn for the fucked.

“Furious is my husband. Like it or not. He belongs to me.”

“Belongs to you? So you can abuse him whenever you like and then let your pussy brother step in when you get tired?” Syn stepped closer. “I don’t fucking think so.”

The Ex tried to look around Syn, speaking to Furi. “Honey, come back home. I’ve changed. I will never hurt you again: I swear on my life.”

“Bullshit. He doesn’t believe you and I damn-sure don’t believe you,” Syn argued.

“I don’t have to convince you of anything.”

“The hell you don’t. I’m the main one you have to convince.”

The Ex put his hands out as if gesturing at his surroundings. “I came all the way here to get him. That’s enough. I’m here aren’t I?”

“So are the dumpsters,” Syn answered with a bored expression.

“You calling me trash,” Ex growled.

“No. Trash would be too nice a word. Do you really want to know what I would call you?” Syn smirked, his smile morphing quickly to a snarl before he spoke again, “Furi belongs to me now. If you want him you’re going to have to go through me to get him.”

Syn felt Furi pulling at his arm. Without taking his eyes off the Ex, he turned just slightly to hear what Furi had to say.

“This is not your fight it’s mine,” Furi hissed in his ear.

Syn fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, you were really kicking ass when I got here. Syn looked up the alley seeing God and Day turn the corner and walk toward them, looking like two renegade bikers. God in his black, mid-thigh length leather coat, black clothes, his long hair flowing down his back, and black Timberland boots that you did not want to be on the receiving end of a kick from. Day in is tight leather jacket, black cargo pants, and Jordans. They looked like thugs, not cops.