Текст книги "Stalker "

Автор книги: Clarissa Wild

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER 25

VANESSA

I shudder in place, watching Phoenix tackle the guy and put him down on the ground.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Phoenix yells, his voice raspy from fury. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

His anger has me frozen in place as he beats the living shit out of the man lying on the floor, helpless to his relentless assault. He’s so quick with his jabs and punches that I can’t even keep up.

“You fucking laid a hand on her?” he screams.

“No, I was just …”

“You had your fucking dick out! You fucking piece of shit!” he yells, slapping the shit out of him. “You tried to fuck her!”

“Fuck you; you’re keeping a chick up there all for yourself. The least you can do is share,” the man spits.

“SHE IS MINE!” Phoenix yells so loud that I sink to the ground.

I watch the two men fight; hitting each other with such force that teeth are flying through the air and blood is dripping from their faces. And all I can do is sit here and feel numb. I want to move, but I can’t. I feel glued to the floor, images flashing through my head of that man and his fingers, the way he touched me, the way he crawled over me like a slithering snake, his smell, and the fear it instilled in me. His flesh coming into contact with mine. He almost … almost … Oh fuck, I think I’m going to puke.

As Phoenix keeps jabbing him, I lean over and puke on the floor beside me. There goes breakfast. What a waste, but damn, do I feel sick.

“I DON’T FUCKING SHARE!” Phoenix screams.

I glance at him and watch him pull a knife. I don’t stop him. All I do is watch as he jams the knife into the man’s chest. He gurgles, spitting up blood, groaning in pain as Phoenix takes the blade out and stuffs it back into his body again. It’s almost like a blow-up doll filled with hay that he just keeps stabbing. Maybe I’ve lost my mind for thinking this, but I’m not even opposed to the idea of Phoenix killing this man. In fact, I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t completely fazed out right now. But watching that man get ripped to shreds is somehow soothing to my volatile heart.

“You put your fucking filthy hands on her, fucking pig.” Phoenix grabs his fingers and slams them to the ground. “Say bye to your fucking fingers, dipshit,” he growls.

And off goes the thumb. One chop is all it takes.

It’s quick. It’s painful. It’s certainly merciless.

And I don’t give a damn.

I just watch him as he chops off the man’s fingers one by one with only a knife. The same knife he used to threaten me with. The same knife I now wish to use to cut off the man’s balls.

The man screams, but it only calms me down. My heart should be racing right now, and my mind should be rallying to come to his aid. He’s a man who requires help, but sometimes the need to see someone punished goes beyond what we tell ourselves we should do.

Only now, after seeing him being brutalized, do I realize that I’m just as fucked up as all of the people in this house.

He’s being tortured, and I don’t give a damn. In fact, just watching it happen in front of me is calming me down.

Someone else storms up the stairs. A guy with slick black hair, a square jaw, and a frown so deep I swear it’s locked on permanently. He rushes toward the two and pulls Phoenix off the dude.

“Nix! Stop!” he yells, literally dragging Phoenix away.

“Get the fuck off me!” Phoenix screams. “I’m gonna kill him!”

The man is groaning, his noises getting quieter with every passing second.

It all happened in a flash. One minute some guy is assaulting me, and the next, Phoenix is chopping his fingers off like cutting grass. He’s fast as lightning, striking with equal ferocity.

And he did it all for me.

***

PHOENIX

Age 20

“Hit him harder!” my trainer yells to me as I punch my opponent. “Harder, Phoenix!”

When he calls out that name, it makes me frown, wondering who the hell he’s talking to. But then I remember … that’s me now. Phoenix is my name. I just haven’t gotten used to people calling me that way yet.

My trainer told me that I would get a new identity. A new name. The moment I joined, Miles would be dead. Gone from this earth. I would be reborn as a killer, and a killer needed an appropriate name.

Phoenix, I’d decided. Like the hero from my past.

I would be own my hero now.

Momentarily distracted, my opponent smacks me in the face, causing me to drop down on my back.

“Phoenix, get your ass back up!” my trainer yells. “Stop letting yourself get distracted. Focus!”

I nod, jumping back up on my feet again, ready for the next attack.

I’ve been training for the past few months. Nonstop, ever since I met him. My trainer is harsh and so is the organization. Everyone is ruthless here, just like me. After training here for so much time, I finally realize why he chose me that day on the streets. It wasn’t because I was strong or fast, even though I am. It was because of my attitude. My relentless pursuit of justice. My justice. I would achieve anything in whatever way necessary … and all of the people here would do the same.

We are killers.

They’re born and bred to fight, to escape the law, to hunt for their prey. They murder the guilty but don’t always spare the innocent. They fight for two things—money and power. And now that I’ve seen them in action, I realize that there are a lot of people who would do anything to attain either of those two. The only thing being is that they hire us to do their dirty work for them.

So essentially, they’re not the ones with money and power; we are.

I dropkick my opponent to the other side of the mat, making him touch the ground.

My trainer blows his whistle and shouts, “Well done, Phoenix.”

I get up off the floor, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and shake my opponent’s hand. He’s a lot tougher than I am, and yet I still managed to beat him. He grins and winks at me, “Good match, Nix.”

“Thanks, DeLuca.”

It’s the first time I managed to beat his ass. He’s a lot bigger and stronger than the others are, but I guess that’s why my trainer wanted me to fight him. He’s been handing me tasks he doesn’t want anyone else to do, like point-blank shooting a guy in the face, even though I knew nothing about his background.

It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care. And the more I fight and kill, the less I feel.

My emotions have been waning ever since I lost her, the girl I believed was mine. Now all I dream about is making her and her new family pay.

I will show them all what real power is. The one you can’t buy. It’s unattainable without losing a piece of your soul, and I’ll gladly barter with the devil.

I can do anything I set my mind to, whether it’s training, fighting, or killing. Day in and day out, I set a goal, and I don’t look back. The past is behind me; this is who I am now. Phoenix; the guy who doesn’t give a damn.

My trainer just wants to see how far I’ll go to win.

How far I’ll go for justice.

Just like that one day, when he stopped to talk to me from his car after I fought my own damn friends. He saw something in me that day. Something I didn’t even know I had inside me, until now.

Let’s just say I’ll do pretty much anything to get my way.

Including murdering anyone who comes into sight. No questions asked.

***

Present

Abruptly, I’m pulled in and out of memories of my past, and how I murdered people with my own bare hands. Cutting this man’s fingers off reminds me of what a filthy, cold-hearted bastard I’ve become. I really don’t give a fuck about him; all I can think about is hurting him as much as possible.

This is what’s become of me. After years of training and fighting, learning only how to kill for a living, I’ve stopped caring about anyone in the world.

Except her.

That woman standing in the corner, naked and shivering. Once she was a girl I loved deeply … now all that’s left is hatred.

And still her voice … it calls to me.

It soothes me.

I swear I can hear her whisper my name, begging me to stop.

Begging me to return to her, exactly the way I was.

Before our world turned into a living hell.

***

VANESSA

“Drop it,” the new guy says to Phoenix. “I said drop it! Drop the fucking knife, Phoenix!”

Phoenix is breathing heavily, his shoulders rising each time he pants like a bear filled with primal rage.

The knife slowly slips from his blood-soaked hands, until it clatters on the floor, shattering every belief I had about myself. I just witnessed a man torture another … and it was so, so good it gives me the chills.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Phoenix repeats.

The guy grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. “Think about her.”

This seems to shake Phoenix, as he turns his head toward me and really looks at me for the first time since the attack. His eyes turn from murderous frenzy into bitter anguish. It breaks my heart in two.

“Focus on her,” the guy next to him says.

Phoenix takes a step toward me, his hands shaking. When he gazes down at them, he frowns, licking his lips, unable to take a step further.

I can see the scornful look on his face, so full of loathing, but it’s not aimed at me. His hand goes to his own heart and he makes a fist on his chest, almost as if he’s willing to crush his own heart.

Slowly, I crawl up from the floor and walk toward him while the new guy tends to the one who tried to assault me. I don’t give a damn that he’s here, that I’m naked, and that there’s blood everywhere.

The only thing I can do right now is wrap my arms around Phoenix and hug him tight.

For a moment, I just stand there, feeling his warmth envelop me, burying my body in his nook, wishing for this all to disappear. The look on his face scared me, but not like it used to. I used to fear the madness in his eyes. Now I fear the disgust he exudes just by looking at his own hands.

He can hate me. He can hate the world. But I don’t want him to hate himself.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispers, his head slowly turning toward the body of the man.

I look up, grab his chin, and force him to look at me. “I’m here. I’m okay. I’m alive.”

He breathes in and out for a few seconds, staring at me as if he sees a ghost. Looking into his eyes is like seeing the world unravel before you. I see him; for the first time, I really see him for who he truly is. A man—vulnerable, loving, emotional, hurt. I hurt him, and he hurts me.

I love him, and he loves me.

And then he wraps his arms around me so tight that I’m squashed by his strong muscles.

I don’t mind. I actually need this, and in his arms, I feel a sliver of safety filling my heart. Just a little bit, but it’s enough to water my eyes.

“Dammit,” the guy suddenly says.

I blink away the tears. We both look at him and the dude lying on the floor, lifeless.

“Too late,” he says, looking at Phoenix.

Phoenix’s lip twitches. “Well, that’s just too damn fucking bad.”

“You killed him, Nix.”

“He fucking deserved it!” He takes his arms off me and leaves me naked again. I quickly grab the nearest curtain and tear it off, wrapping it around my body, even though it’s not much. Phoenix walks back to the corpse as the other dude gets up to face off with him. “He tried to fuck with her, so he got fucked by me.”

“You know this won’t end well,” the dude says.

“Like I give a fuck. I have good grounds. The guy tried to steal something that belonged to me. I had a right to take his life when he tried to pull that shit.”

The guy frowns. “Look, you don’t understand. He wasn’t just here to camp out with you.”

Phoenix leans back. “What?” He cocks his head. “Are you saying he was here for a reason? You know something, don’t you?” Phoenix growls.

The guy holds up his hands. “You know I can’t do anything about the rules, dude. It was just a job.”

“What?” Phoenix yells. “You’d better fucking tell me the truth now, DeLuca, or I’ll rip your fucking head off, too.”

“Nix, think about what you’re doing. You know you can’t win from me.”

Phoenix stands in front of him so close they’re up in each other’s face, shouting. “Watch me.”

“Fuck you,” DeLuca says. “Look, I’m sorry we got you into this mess.”

“Damn right, it’s your fault. You brought him here in the first place.”

“He was supposed to help me with this job.”

“What job?” Phoenix sneers.

He glances at me, and suddenly I feel very exposed. “Killing her.”

An itch goes through my body, circling around until goosebumps cover my skin. The mask that I’ve worn all these years has been shattered as despair slips through my pores, covering my body with dirty sweat.

I suddenly get the urge to jump into the shower to wash the jitters off.

“YOU CAME HERE TO KILL HER?” Phoenix’s voice is off the charts loud.

“Dude, calm down,” DeLuca says.

“I AM NOT CALMING DOWN!” Phoenix is breathing like a bull again, and I have no clue what to do. Should I go there and try to help? I don’t know the guy, or the other one … but something about the anger in Phoenix’s voice tells me this DeLuca guy actually means something to him. Which says a lot.

“She’s on your fucking hit list? That’s why you came here?” Phoenix yells.

“We got the job; I can’t help it. I didn’t know she was the girl from your story until I saw the house, and by then, I knew it was too late. Drago had already gone over the fence. I couldn’t stop him.”

“And you fucking went along with it without telling me?” Phoenix pushes him until he’s up against the wall.

“What else was I supposed to do?” DeLuca says. “I had to do it. They wouldn’t accept me back in if I didn’t complete the job.”

“Who gives a shit about the organization?! She’s mine, and I told you that I was going to do this alone!” Phoenix screams, grabbing his collar and shoving him up the wall.

“You said you were going to kill her. I thought she was already dead, dude. I didn’t think we even had a chance of success.”

“So, what, you thought it was okay to let that fucker just roam the house? You knew he was going to search for her. You fucking knew he wanted to kill her, and you let him get away. You fucking let him do your dirty work for you.”

“It’s not like that. I honestly didn’t think she’d still be alive,” he says, swallowing, holding up his hands. “I mean it. It’s the truth. I know you, Nix. You wouldn’t keep any victim alive. Ever.”

“Except me,” I mutter.

Both of them now look at me as if I’m a complete loon. I blush, but not because they stare at me … it’s because he said Phoenix always kills his victims, and yet he didn’t kill me.

Yet.

Phoenix immediately returns his attention toward DeLuca. “I trusted you. You’ve got some fucking balls, dude.”

“I swear to fucking god, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to confirm her death with you so we could relay it to the organization and get it over with. I expected the job to be cancelled, so we could get another one.”

“And yet you forget to bring up that fact the moment you appear at the front doorstep,” Phoenix says. “I fucking trusted you; I took you with me, and this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry, dude. Really, I am. I know I should’ve acted differently, but I didn’t. We all make mistakes. Again, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, it won’t,” Phoenix growls.

“Phoenix,” I say, stepping forward.

He swallows, glancing back at me. I see the regret in his eyes. I know he doesn’t want to kill his friend. After a few seconds, Phoenix lets him go, and he drops to the floor, grasping for his own throat.

“Get the fuck out,” Phoenix says without looking at him.

“Nix, please, let’s talk about this. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t fucking want to talk to you.”

“But—”

“Get out!” Phoenix screams so loud that it makes DeLuca jolt up, and then run past him.

We briefly exchange looks before he storms down the stairs and out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Phoenix is still breathing heavy, like he’s consumed by his own temper.

“You did the right thing,” I say softly.

“Don’t,” he says.

I look at the floor and wrap the curtain tighter around my body, clinging to what little warmth it provides.

Suddenly, Phoenix turns around, sighing as he comes to me. He picks me up from the floor, making me squeal and drop the curtain that was covering my body, but then I realize he’s carrying me toward my own room. Not the attic. Not the prison-like cage downstairs, but my real bedroom.

He opens the door and a thick vapor of smoke floating through the room makes me cough. Inside, it’s a mess, with clothes and items lying scattered on the carpet. My make-up stand is thrown upside down, the mirror is shattered, on the windowsill is an ashtray filled with old smokes, and the bed is kept untidy.

So this is where he’s been sleeping all this time when he left me alone in the cage. In my room. In my bed. On my pillow.

And as he brings me to my own bed, I can’t help but wonder if it smells like him now.

He places me down on the mattress and covers me with a blanket, gently patting me down as if he’s trying to soothe me.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere right now,” I mutter. “But where are you going?”

“Getting rid of the body.”

“Stay with me,” I say, grabbing his arm.

He stops for a moment. “I have to do this.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t have to see it,” he mumbles, looking at the door.

This makes me blush a little. Is he doing this for me? And even though this is about cleaning up a corpse, somehow I feel flattered.

“I’ll wait,” I say.

“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his face, and then he turns around and walks away, closing the door behind him. I hear him rummage around on the hallway, some sliding and pushing going on, and I’m guessing it’s because he’s moving the body. He’s probably trying to get rid of it as quickly as possible, although I’m not sure how long it takes to bury a body. He probably won’t do it right away but dragging the body downstairs must be tough already.

It takes him a few minutes to come back with bloodied hands and messy hair, which he flips to the side. His whole body is covered with sweat, and there are cuts and bruises all over his skin from the guy fighting him off. I look down at my own hands and the bruises all over my body, and they make me want to cry.

I’m a bumbling mess because of that guy assaulting me, and that never happens to me.

I shiver and pull the blanket up further.

Phoenix walks to the bathroom to the left, glancing at me for only a second, but the moment he does, he bites his lip. I can see the concern in his eyes, and it makes me want to pull the blanket up to my face and cover myself up. I don’t want him to see me like this. Weak. Vulnerable. I hate being any of those things but hating them won’t make the feelings go away.

The faucet turns on and sounds of water splashing onto the skin are audible. After a few minutes, Phoenix steps back out the door, his hands clean and his face pristine. Any sign of blood is gone. If he went out onto the street right now, nobody would be able to tell he just committed a murder.

And he doesn’t even seem to be fazed by it, baffling me completely.

He’s really something.

He walks toward me, and I crawl back further into the bed. I don’t know why, but I have the constant sense that I’m in danger. That I should run. That everything around me is a threat. Even him.

And he is. He locked me up. He imprisoned me in my own home and used me to his heart’s content, so I should be afraid. I guess it’s only natural to feel that way. The problem is that I don’t want to feel that way.

He sits down on the bed beside me and leans in to gently caress my cheek.

“Calm down,” he says. “It’s just me.”

“Is he gone?”

“Like he never existed in the first place.”

I frown, nodding, but something about this still doesn’t feel right. I can’t get the images out of my head. This man touching me, talking to me, and trying to use me.

I bobble up and down and try to soothe myself, but it’s not working. Phoenix crawls under the sheets with me and grabs me, making it impossible for me to move away.

“Stop,” he commands with his dark voice. “Come here.”

He drags me closer to him and wraps his arms around me, keeping my wrists and face locked against his chest. At first, panic bubbles to the surface, causing my breathing to become irregular, but his steady heartbeat and the strokes of his hand on my back make me sigh.

Lying here with him, protected by his strong arms, I suddenly feel okay with being in his presence. Like it was always supposed to be this way. And strangely, this collar around my neck doesn’t feel so bad anymore. Instead, it reminds that I’m his now, and he protects what belongs to him. Always.