Destroyed

Page 17

I lay with my eyes wide open, watching the slow journey of the sun from sunrise to high noon to sunset. I couldn’t bring myself to think how to fix this or even to think of Clara.
I’d besmirched myself, tarnishing my hope with reality.
Fuck two hundred thousand dollars. Fuck him.
When twilight fell and I’d had enough of wallowing in the filth I’d created, I stood gingerly and hobbled to the bathroom.
Avoiding looking in the mirror, I focused on the silver around my wrists. With gritted teeth, I yanked them with all my strength, sweating with effort until a link pried open, allowing me to get free.
I couldn’t remove the necklace or belly chain, but at least my hands were free. Free to shower, get dressed, and walk out the f**king door.
Obsidian Fox had messed with the wrong girl. I would leave, then I would come back and make him regret ever hurting me.
I would teach him that even though he might be haunted, it gave him no right, none, to hurt others.
I would be his nightmare.
Chapter 8
Life was never easy.
I learned that thanks to a rigorous training program that left me mostly dead and fumbling for a way back to life.
I didn’t make excuses for my behaviour. I knew what I was.
But I found a way to deal with the blackness in my brain. I found unwilling victims and gave them my pain. It was a trade-off and it worked—for a time.
I thought I could wipe my violent past free all thanks to the cure I’d found in one woman.
I piled all my hopes and pleas and prayers into a miracle, and it f**king ruined me when it turned out to be false.
Instead of treating her kindly, I slipped back to the past and lost.
I raped her. I hurt her. I made her run and leave me.
I should’ve known inviting a fierce woman into my life would only make it worse.
She succeeded in being my personal hell.
She made sure to break me.
Fuck.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I couldn’t believe I’d taken her so rough with no f**king remorse or thought to her safety.
The instant she was bound, instead of being soothed by being in control, it made me snap.
Fuck!
I was the biggest bastard alive.
I couldn’t stand to be around her—knowing I ruined everything. I did the only thing I could do to protect her.
I ran.
I returned to the basement to pummel my anger into a piece of bronze. I f**ked up by taking her so fast. I forced myself on her and was no better than ra**st scum.
Bastard!
I cowered away and leeched my pain by branding the sole of my foot with a hot piece of iron. The stench of burning flesh helped purify my thoughts, giving me a respite from the monstrous things I’d done.
Only once I could think straight and resembled a human rather than a beast, did I search for her to apologise. I turned my house upside down, searching.
I couldn’t find her.
Anywhere.
Everywhere I looked, it was empty. Every room. Every space.
I’d damaged whatever existed between us, but I hadn’t expected her to abandon me.
You f**king raped her, you idiot!
I’d done to her what I’d sworn never to do again—I took someone’s free will and made them do something against their wishes. I was no better than them.
She was gone.
Gone!
The club opened at nine p.m., and I waited for Oscar at the top of the stairs, quaking with helplessness and rage. The moment he showed up, I roared, “You let her f**king leave?”
Oscar climbed the last stair with the stiffness of preparation for a fight. His shoulders tensed, face darkened.
I clenched and unclenched my fists. How dare she disappear! I couldn’t let it end like that. I had to make her forgive me. I had to apologise. I needed a f**king second chance.
He glared bloody murder, blue eyes tearing into mine. “What the f**k was I supposed to do? She’s a free woman, not a captive! She asked for a lift a few hours ago and I agreed.” Coming closer, he seethed, “What the hell did you do to her last night, Fox? She walked out of here as if she’d been used by a f**king stallion.” His gaze shot me with bullets of rage. “I hope you got your money’s worth because I doubt she’ll be coming back.”
This was the same prick who’d scorned Zel last night. The same man who looked at Zel as if she were a succubus out to steal my soul.
“That’s none of your f**king business. She was mine. We had a deal!”
“A deal? What? Where you were allowed to destroy the poor girl? Don’t make me laugh.”
My rage morphed into white-hot anger. Oscar couldn’t point fingers. Fucking hypocrite. He had more women than I’d ever met. He used them and cast them aside with no thought to their feelings.
“At least I’ve only hurt one.” I narrowed my eyes, daring him to argue.
Oscar’s mouth hung open. “Screw you. I f**k women who want me to f**k them. I don’t kidnap them and then rape them. For God’s sake, we’ll have the police here if she decides to lay charges.”
The thought of being touched by many, of being handcuffed and trapped in a cage, undid my shaky sanity even further. I was done living in cages, belonging to others. I was done.
I couldn’t speak. Anger closed my throat as I stood precariously close to the edge I was always one-step away from plummeting off.
“I f**ked her. So what?”
Oscar came forward. “Please tell me she wanted it or so help me. We may be business partners, Fox, and I don’t know what shit you dealt with in your past, but if you raped her, I’ll kill you myself.”
The switch deep inside—the one I always struggled with keeping off—flicked on. The compassion I’d fought so hard to cultivate disappeared in a puff of smoke. Every lesson I’d ever learned, all the pain I’d suffered, all the blood I’d spilled swamped me in a cloud of contamination.
“You think you could kill me?” My voice never rose past a whisper, but it throbbed with a threat.
The noise of fighters pummelling each other in Obsidian below pricked my skin with energy.
Violence. Blood. Pain. It was my DNA. The only reason I was born—the only reason why I was still alive.
I took one step toward Oscar. His healthy tan faded as fear whitewashed his features. Instead of backing down, he stepped forward until only a foot separated us. “I think you need some serious f**king help, Fox. The way you were with that woman last night, it was obsessive. You seemed completely different. Good different.” His voice lost the angry edge. “You seemed human for the first time since we met. You need to apologise if you have any hope of fixing it.”
A Ghost never apologized. A Ghost was there to obey. A Ghost was nothing and no-one. We existed above the law.
You have to destroy evidence.
You have to kill her.
The conditioning doused my body in a cold sweat.
“What address did she give you?” Images of squeezing her throat, sucking her soul plundered my mind. It was the only way.
She knew about me. I showed her too much.
Oscar looked over his shoulder at the fighters below. The Muay Thai ring held an eager duo going at it with wild ferocity. No one looked up here, no one paid attention to the stand-off between us.
The longer he kept me from her, the more pissed off I got. She was mine. I had the contract to prove it. Every minute that ticked past cost me one hundred and thirty nine dollars of the two hundred thousand I agreed to pay—she owed it to me to be here. Fighting with me. Letting me do what I wanted.
His jaw clenched. “I’m not giving it to you.” Taking another step back, he rushed, “You don’t know what life she leads. What about the woman who was with her last night? The black dude? You can’t go charging over there in your condition. It’s professional suicide. Do you have any idea what kind of shit-storm this could bring?”
My temper flared into nuclear. “That’s none of your f**king business.”
Storming toward him, I shoved him out of the way of the stairs. Instead of going willingly, Oscar slammed to a halt and braced himself on my shoulder.
The moment he touched me, I lost it.
My world swooped like a bad time machine, shooting me from present to past.
“You’ve passed the first test of three. Congratulations.”
My handler, and only person who I was allowed to talk to, came close and gave me what I so craved: food. Damn, I was hungry. After two weeks in the pit with just scraps for nourishment, they’d broken my will, and I’d done what they’d ordered.
My throat closed around the piece of chicken, remembering what I’d done only an hour before. I’d broken into a home—complete with Christmas decorations in the window and a fire flickering in the hearth. I’d sneaked up the stairs on silent toes and stood over a woman sleeping soundly in her bed.
I’d stabbed her in the heart while her husband slept on.
Then, I left.
I choked, throwing the chicken away, staring at my hands. Traces of blood coated my fingers, glowing bright with damnation.
“Well done, Fox. Well done for killing your mother.”
“Fox?”
“Fox! Goddammit, stop!”
A fist to the jaw shattered the flashback, and I hurled myself at the stupid culprit. I’d kill them. I’d kill them for making me murder my mother.
“Fox!”
My vision cleared from blood-smeared thirteen-year-old fingers to a bulging eyed Oscar.
His hands clawed at mine around his neck, his feet dangled off the floor. The burn in my shoulders spoke of the weight I held almost unconsciously. It was so easy. I didn’t know why I fought so hard. This was all I was good for.
Death.
Oscar spat in my face. His warm spit landed in my eye, and I threw him to the side disgusted.
“Snap out of it.” He threw a crystal ashtray at my head. It bounced off my temple, knocking sense back into me.
I blinked, bringing into focus his torn shirt and bleeding lip. Fear stank around him.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Backing away, I looked down at my hands—at the symbol III tattooed into my palms. How could I ever let myself get so weak?
Pain.
I need pain.
I needed deliverance. I needed an escape.
Turning on my heel, I bolted. Adrenaline pumped thick and fast, chugging my broken heart.
Bulldozing my way through the fighters on the floor of Obsidian, I already knew where I would go.
I didn’t look back.
Twenty minutes later, I screeched to a halt outside Dragonfly. If Obsidian was exclusive and upmarket—created for skilful fighters who wanted prestige—Dragonfly was its sinful baby brother. A place where a disclaimer had to be signed and lodged just in case you didn’t make it out alive.
My favourite place for medicine.
I’d found it purely by chance. When I moved to Sydney, I didn’t know anyone. Cast out of the only world I knew, I fumbled in society. With no guidance or rules, I had none of my usual tools to stay together.
The only way to keep my temper at a manageable level had been to ambush. Most nights I hid in dark alleys, just waiting for random, clueless prey to stumble upon my trap.
The moment they were close I taunted and teased, hurting them just enough for them to hurt me. Then I’d force myself to stop—to give them the winning hand. Every strike helped ease my pain, and I welcomed the throws.
Only once they’d given me enough to exist another day did I knock them out and run. Leaving them to be found by another—keeping my identity hidden thanks to the tricks I’d been taught by my owners.
For weeks it worked, until one night I picked a guy who owned the Dragonfly and he gave me the beating I’d been searching for. He tore into me like he channelled a f**king velociraptor. He cleared my head completely of the mess inside.
A fight was mere aspirin, whereas Poison Oaks was my morphine.
His fighting name fit him perfectly—built like a thousand-year-old tree, his arms were the size of trunks, and his temper was poisonous. No one pissed him off. They knew better.
Double parking my black Cayman, I jogged down the dark alley before taking a sharp left.
A glowing dragonfly was the only signal the club existed. No garish signs, no hint of existence. Just like Obsidian, both clubs worked on referral and secrecy.
Knocking on the door in the correct code sequence, I glared at the bouncer who cracked it open.
The gloomy, smoky world behind him set my teeth on edge. I needed to get in there and fight. Then maybe I could clear my head before searching for Zel.
To track her down and take her home like a kill that was rightfully mine.
“Poison Oaks? Is he here?” My voice lost its fake Australian accent and slipped into Russian. My eyesight pulsated with greys and whites, almost as if my vision clouded and fogged.
I hadn’t been this close before. Not since two years ago.
The bouncer held out his hand, pointing toward the back. Stepping aside, he let me pass, knowing not to touch me.
I didn’t say a word as I made my way through the heaving crowd, careful to keep a wide berth. The boxing ring in the centre of the club was the only fighting arena. Every discipline was allowed and the dark stains on the floor, along with the tattered rigging and ropes, spoke of battles won and lost.
My heart thudded faster, preparing for a fight.
I found who I needed sitting with a half-naked woman with fake br**sts on his lap. His tanned skin and tattooed arms tensed, bouncing her weight like a pet or a child on his knee.
The instant he saw me, he froze. “Not tonight, Fox. I’m not up for your bullshit.”
It took everything in me not to slap the woman off his lap and haul him into the ring.
“Ten thousand. Give me everything you have.”
He shook his head, his bald scalp shining thanks to the neon lights in the shapes of dragonflies. The ceiling had been painted with a thousand of the f**king bugs, transforming the entire room into an insect ridden cage.