We get back mid-afternoon. Kenzo is on the sofa, monitoring his clubs like normal, but Roxy is nowhere in sight. Not that I care. Not one bit.
Ryder, on the other hand, brushes his hair back before unbuttoning his jacket, the only sign he’s as annoyed as I am with today’s meetings. It seems the Triad has taken to threatening some of the businesses in the city, demanding they pay them for protection. Not us.
It’s a challenge, one we need to rise to. Ryder’s eyes are tight, even as he looks around. “Where is she?”
Kenzo doesn’t even look up. “Hiding from you.”
“Why?” Ryder questions, seeming confused. Roxy doesn’t seem like the type to hide…
“She was snooping upstairs earlier when I caught her.” He shrugs, tapping on his screen.
Ryder sighs and looks over at me. “I’m going to wash today’s stink off, I’ve instructed Diesel to…have a talk with some of the other businesses to ensure they don’t think they have to pay as well.”
I nod as he heads upstairs and to his room. Deciding I could go for a shower myself, I head to my room, kicking my door closed and pressing my back against it as I suck in a deep breath.
But with it comes a scent, an unmistakable scent. Like whiskey and sex.
She’s been in here.
Fury pounds through me. I snarl as I rip off my shirt and storm to my bag, throwing some punches and getting all my aggression out. How dare she. This is my room! My space! The only place I’m safe and now—now it smells like her!
Not that my body cares, the stupid bastard is hot and heavy, the fragrance wrapping around me and jerking my cock awake in my jeans. Of course the only woman it’s reacted to since that cunt would be the one we’re keeping prisoner. I don’t need another woman, I don’t need another fucking complication.
But my cock doesn’t care, it twitches in my jeans, pressing uncomfortably against my zipper, so I yank them off and head to the shower, a cold one. But as the freezing spray pounds down on my back, it doesn’t even dent the desire surging through me.
Glancing down, I spot the bead of pre-cum at my cock’s tip, my vein throbbing on the side. Fuck. It’s been way too long, but all of my need was taken away that night. I didn’t know if it was because every time I’d even thought about fucking someone that night flashes through my head, dampening my need, or if my cock was just broken.
I didn’t care…much.
But now, of all the fucking time, now it’s decided to wake up and with a fury. Desire streams through me at every hour of the day. I swear I’ve fucked my hand more often this last twenty-four hours than I did even as a teenager. Last night, when I went to lie down to sleep, all I could see were those flashing, angry eyes. Her body spinning as she tried to attack me.
I imagined a different ending though, me throwing her over the bar, ripping up those tiny shorts, and pounding into her tight little cunt until she stopped fighting and started screaming.
Shit.
Reaching down, I can’t help but squeeze my cock as I imagine her on her knees before me. Those dark eyes blinking up at me, those red lips wrapped around my cock. She would be angry, her nails digging into my skin, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Fuck. Leaning against the wall, I stroke my length as I imagine it, visualising how beautiful she would look naked and tied up, unable to do anything but suck me down. That silver hair soaking and stuck to her head from my hands as I slam into her mouth. Again and again.
With a grunt, my hips stutter as my release crashes through me, spraying across my stomach and the wall. Sighing, I turn the heat up in the shower and wash myself off, disgusted with where my mind is taking me. She’s no one, she’s just another gold-digging bitch. So what if she had no choice? She will be exactly like the others.
I’ve learned my lesson, no, Roxy is a distraction. One we need to get rid of before she destroys everything we have worked so hard to save.
Just then a yell comes from down the hall. Turning off the water, I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and head into my room, wrenching open the door. Frowning, I watch a scared-looking Roxy race down the hall right towards me. She doesn’t even look where she’s going, just slams into my wet chest. I peer down at her in confusion, and she glares back. We stare each other down.
Her chest is heaving as she glances over her shoulder, so I do the same, spotting Ryder coming out of his room holding scraps of material in his hand. His eyes are deadly as they lock on to the little woman pressed against me.
She yelps and slips past me, pressing to my back as if I’ll protect her. I don’t know why, but that makes me puff up, and I glare at Ryder as I slam the door. Crossing my arms, I turn around and look down at the woman in my room. Right where I didn’t want her.
Shit, she’s our enemy’s daughter. A fucking debt. Nothing else…so why does my heart pound as her eyes run across my destroyed chest? Why do I look away in disgust? She must feel sick looking at me.
Why do I care?
I don’t.
“What did you do?” I snap.
She smiles sweetly at me, but it looks wrong on her face. I prefer the scowl, the anger…the heat. “Nothing.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. I’ll throw you back out there to deal with his wrath,” I snarl.
She sighs, losing the innocent façade. Her eyes darken as her hands prop on her hips, her lips curling up in a sneer. “Nothing he didn’t deserve.”
“And what makes you think I’ll save you?” I snap.
Her eyes drag across my chest again, and I stop myself from shrinking away. Fuck her and her opinions. “What happened to your chest?”
I growl, grabbing her throat and slamming her into the wall next to the door. Not cutting off her air supply, just applying pressure, but it’s so hard not to squeeze. Especially when her eyes change to those blue mocking ones, her hair turning blonde and long, her lips thinning out. Shaking my head, I push back the vision, my chest heaving as I struggle to stay in the present. To not kill Roxy.
It’s not her.
I repeat it over and over.
Roxy swallows against my grip, but doesn’t fight me, just hangs there, her eyes watching me closely. I lean down and get right in her face, no doubt mine is transformed into a snarl. “I will not save you, little girl, if anything, I will be your death. Ryder might get annoyed and have it ordered, Kenzo might even help. Fuck, even Diesel would be kinder, he’d make sure you enjoyed it…me? I will make it hurt. I will make you suffer, because you mean nothing to me. I won’t even care when you beg. You. Are. Nothing. Just another fucking debt. Another fucking whore through those doors.”
She tips her head back, her eyes flashing. “Is that so? Then do it. Kill me. I’m tired of the uncertainty, just fucking do it. Stop threatening, just kill me,” she taunts.
I snarl and slam her back again, she oomphs as the wind is knocked out of her, but still laughs, even though I can feel the rapid beat of her pulse against my hand, betraying her. She’s scared of me. It’s what brings me back. “Fucking do it! I’m sick of the threats, of waiting for it to happen! Just kill me and get it over with, it’s better than this not knowing!” she screams right in my face.
I was so lost, I didn’t even hear the door open until a hand touches my arm. Jerking my head around with a snarl, I look right into Ryder’s calm eyes. “Garrett, it’s not her. Look, see? It’s not her. It’s Roxxane. Let her go.”
Breathing heavily, I swing around to look at the woman held in my arms. My heart stutters, fuck. Releasing her, I stumble back—fuck, fuck, fuck. Horror washes through me. Is this really what I have turned into? My hand shakes as I stare at Roxy, who falls to her knees, gasping for air. Ryder tries to help her up, but she smacks his hands away and gets to her feet, her angry eyes locked on me.
She looks between us then, so fucking angry. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I’m sick of this shit. Sick of looking over my shoulder, of being scared to sleep. I know I’m nothing to you, just another debt, but I didn’t ask for this. I’m asking you now, kill me. Make it quick.”
Ryder narrows his eyes as she stands there and waits, so brave, this little one. “We won’t, and you do not order us, Roxxane.”
“Then fuck you!” she yells, lashing out in fear. I know because I do the same thing. I see it in her gaze, the same ghosts that haunt me. “You think I’m going to sit here like another one of your fucking-fucking women? I am a person! I have a life.” She looks to Ryder then, staring straight into his eyes. “You will regret the day you took me, I guarantee it. I’m going to destroy you.” She strides right up to me, despite the fact I almost just killed her, and goes chest to chest with me.
“And you? You touch me again, and I will slit your throat in your sleep. Den of vipers or not, even if it means I won’t make it out alive.” She pulls back her fist, I see it coming, habit of a fighter, but I don’t try to block it as it connects with my face. I hear my nose crack a little, pain flaring through me. But I’m used to it, I live in that pain.
Live for it, the only time I feel alive, feel normal. Not this scarred up monster hiding behind gloves and suits.
She shakes out her hand, and I know she hurt it, but she doesn’t let it show as she turns and, with her head held high, leaves the room. I stand there, staring after her. She hit me. Again. That woman—she’s a fucking hurricane.
Even when faced with death, she fights. It reminds me so much of some other men I know—my brothers—who never stop, never give up, even when the odds seem extreme.
I deserved her hit. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have let her in here. Let her get close enough to crawl under my skin, to poke and prod. It will be her death, that’s all I can offer anyone. There is nothing else left of me but anger.
Hate.
“She sure is something,” Ryder mutters, watching me. As always, his eyes sadden when they spot my chest. He blames himself, I know it. Always does when one of us gets hurt, always thinking he has to protect us. Save us. He doesn’t, but he won’t listen to me, not that we ever spoke about what happened. “Maybe you shouldn’t be around her, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about what it would do to bring her here…” He scrubs his hand through his hair, mussing it slightly.
That, in Ryder standards, is a meltdown.
“No, it’s fine,” I snap, turning away, not letting him see how close I came to losing myself to those emotions. To that darkness…those demons, the ones I fight every day. The ones I beat down with pain, fists, and kicks.
“I can kill her, she wouldn’t be a problem then,” he muses, so calmly, but when I drop the towel, yanking on my grey shorts, I look over to see his lips tilting down. He doesn’t want to kill her. She’s under his skin as well—interesting.
“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t prepared, I will be now. I’ll stay away from her until we decide what we’re doing with her,” I reply, as I tug on a shirt and grab my bag, tucking my gun into my waistband.
“You going to the pits?” he asks, letting out a long breath as he slicks his hair back.
“I need to.” I sigh, looking at my back, and his hand lands on my arm again.
“I know, go, do what you need to do to beat this. But then come back to us,” he orders before leaving.
Sucking in a breath, I let his words guide me. Come back to us. How does he know I’m so close to being lost? So close to dropping my guard ever so slightly to let those flurries of fists connect, killing me? It would be easier, but it’s not our way.
Vipers never give up.
Vipers never stop fighting.
Vipers are winners.
Striding from my room, I ignore the others who are sitting downstairs as I slam the door behind me. They will never know how close I am to the edge. Diesel went over it a long time ago, but he learned how to live in the dark. Kenzo walks that line, and Ryder? Ryder holds it all back with pure fucking strength.
Me? I beat it down.
Again and again, no matter how much this body gets broken. It’s the only way I can function. To feel that adrenaline pumping through me, releasing my fury on another person. They often don’t leave the ring on their own two feet. Those people there scream my name as blood drips from my bulging muscles, and they love it.
I hate it, but it’s a necessity.
It once wasn’t. I was the best, even did it professionally before I realised how much money could be had in underground fighting. Now I have no other choice, I’m too brutal for professional fighting. I want my opponent to hurt, to bleed. I want their bones to break under my fists, their eyes to blacken.
I want their pain.
I paint them with the destruction of my fists.
I pummel the man. He tries to block, to duck behind his arms, but he can’t stop me. I give him everything, handing myself over to those emotions until I’m nothing more than anger. He falls to the floor, and I follow him down.
Pinning him there, I smash my fists into his unprotected face. My knuckles crack, splitting open. My own blood coats his face, but even then I don’t stop. The crowd screams, pressing closer so they can almost taste the bloodshed. They love it.
They scream my name, but it all fades to a buzz as I swing fist after fist. The man passes out, but I still keep going, his head jerking to the side with each hard punch. Someone tries to get me to stop, but I push them away. I can’t stop. I can’t.
I need this.
I need him to bleed.
I need the pain.
I’m yanked away from the man, his chest is barely rising, his face caved in. Turning, I snarl, punching anyone who gets too close until the ref’s, and the four security guards’ currently trying to stop me, faces come into view.
Chest heaving, muscles screaming and soaked in sweat, I stand in the middle of the ring with the spotlight on me. I nod to let them know I’m back, that I’m okay. It goes quiet until the ref grabs my damaged hand and lifts it into the air, shouting into the mic about me winning. I don’t care.
I stand there as the crowd surges, screaming, chanting, and stomping in the basement of the old paper factory. The stands are made from what they could find, and the ring is basically a chalk drawing with ropes around it.
But some of the richest people in the city are here, as well as the poorest. Yet they are the fighters, street kids like I once was. Anyone trying to change their future, giving everything. The ref leans closer. “We have another guy, you look like you need it.”
I nod, he’s right, I do. Roxy’s eyes keep flashing in my mind, and I need someone to beat them out. “Make it two,” I snarl, as I stride from the ring and throw back some water before letting it wash across my face. Peeling back the tape from my knuckles, I assess the damage—not too bad.
A woman sidles up next to me as they pick up the guy I almost killed from the ring and toss him aside like trash. The loser gets nothing, after all. I slip the money from my winnings into my bag, not that I need it, but it doesn’t hurt. The woman coughs slightly when I don’t look at her, her body almost pressing to my side…another woman did that once.
Her.
I should have known then she wasn’t right, but I was too fucking blind. Too trusting. Too naïve. Not anymore. Never again.
The anger comes back full force as I glance at the intruder. The dress she’s wearing is too tight, pushing up her fake boobs, almost making them spill from the top. Her red hair is curled, and her face is covered in makeup to within an inch of her life.
I can’t help but compare her to that firework back at our apartment. She has nothing on Roxy. “What?” I growl, done with being nice. I don’t have to be here, they all know me. Know what I am.
Women ache for a taste, thinking they can handle the madness in me. The men cheer it on, wanting to watch me kill. To get their own darkness out through me. They are all wrong. They have no idea what hides in my depths.
“Want some company, baby? You’re a winner, after all,” she purrs, running her hand down my sweaty arm. I grab her fingers and squeeze hard, she gasps in pain, her eyes widening and fear entering those orbs as she shivers under my gaze, shrinking back.
They all do.
They all think they can handle me, but they’re wrong. Even if I wanted to fuck any one of them—which I don’t, not anymore—I couldn’t. I would kill them.
“Do. Not. Touch. Me,” I snarl, just as I hear my name announced. I push her backwards, and she falls to her ass, the people around her laughing. Turning away, I head back to the ring, ready to lose myself in the fight once again.
Maybe I’ll get lucky, maybe they will be a good opponent. Maybe they will give me the pain I need, maybe they will finally kill me and end this misery…
