Текст книги "Destroyed"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

8

Roan

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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucked up by taking her so fast. I forced myself on her and was no better than rapist 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking second chance.

He glared bloody murder, blue eyes tearing into mine. “What the fuck 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck women who want me to fuck 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 fucked 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 breasts 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 fucking bugs, transforming the entire room into an insect ridden cage.

“I’m not in the mood to go to the hospital again, Fox. Fuck off.”

The woman giggled and kissed his cheek, rubbing her nipples against his groping hand.

The woman was tacky and cheap; my cock showed no interest in her fakery. Only Zel had power over that piece of my anatomy. She proved it still worked. Too well.

“I won’t touch you. You have my word,” I lied, but so what. I had to get him in the ring. My body felt like it would explode at any moment. I had to get this evilness out of me. I had to find my way back to the man I wanted to be and not the man I’d been trained to be.

I needed to be punished.

Poison’s brown eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“You can bind my hands. I don’t care.”  My eyes dropped to his fingers stroking the woman’s thigh. I knew how deadly they could be. I’d suffered pain. Great pain. Pain I wanted again.

After a never-ending minute, he sighed. “Fine.” Looking over my shoulder, he motioned to a large guy with a black goatee. “Get some rope and bind his wrists.”

The man nodded and disappeared into the crowd. He returned a moment later with a length of heavy-duty twine.

I was well-versed in the art of knots and rope. It was a perfect weapon: silent, portable, undetectable.

“Hold ‘em out.” He chewed loudly on some gum, waiting for me to obey.

It took a lot to spin around and present my wrists. My jaw locked as I deliberately and obediently held the submissive position.

Looking over my shoulder, I demanded, “Don’t touch me. Just wrap the rope and tie it tight.”

“Dude, how the fuck am I not supposed to touch you?” He popped his gum, glaring at me like I was an idiot.

Touch me and see what happens, cocksucker.

“Do as he says, Geoff. You don’t want to know what happens otherwise.” Poison Oaks shifted the woman off his knee and stood to his impressive six foot four height.

I kept my eyes locked with his, trying hard to ignore any quick touches as Geoff bound my wrists. My heart raced as the twine rubbed against my skin and pulled taut.

Once the knot was tight, he mumbled, “Done.”

Poison cocked his head at the ring. “Come on then, you psycho. I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Together we moved toward the ring. He added, “You really need some therapy. This isn’t the kind of shit you should need.”

I didn’t answer. My body had ceased to exist; all I thought of was finding peace. The fear of being bound couldn’t override the delicious expectation of what was to come.

Poison looked across to the DJ in the corner of the small overly packed room and dragged a finger over his throat. The music cut out and people stopped talking instantly. “Anyone who wants to see a brutal bashing, gather ‘round. You—” he pointed at the men in the ring “—out.”

The guys slid through the rigging. I climbed up with the aid of an angry push from Poison. The moment we were in the ring, a buzz filled me. The knowledge I would get my ass kicked and everything would be okay.

“See how we manipulate you, Fox? You might as well stop fighting us. We win. Every time. You’re ours, and you need to remember that.”

The vision popped into my head just before Poison’s fist collided with my gut. My lungs gasped for air as I doubled over—shock and pain quaked through my torso. The moment the agony pulsed through me, a small bit of torture left. The blackness in my brain cracked, letting light shine.

Music clicked on, raining from the speakers; reggae with a touch of drum and bass. My body twisted, anticipating Poison’s next move. I was there to be purged by pain, but it didn’t mean I’d make it easy for him.

He thought he was safe with my hands tied. Fucking idiot.

“Get ‘em, Oaks!” someone shouted, just as Poison flung himself off the boxing ropes and torpedoed toward me. Darting to the side, I brought my knee up and slammed him in the stomach.

Oaks bent to the side, breathing hard. His tanned skin flushed red with anger and pain. “Oi, motherfucker. I thought you said you wouldn’t retaliate.” He charged, pushing me back with well-aimed strikes. Fist after fist landed on my jaw and chest. Every wallop brought more light. More space to breathe.

I felt lighter, more human.

I smiled as he slugged me with a right hook, and I fell to my knees. Stars and bright lights danced in my vision, dispelling the white fog that’d crept over me. I was on the mend.

I’d found what I needed.

My teeth clanked together as Poison kicked me in the chest. My lungs slammed closed, stopping any air from entering.

I lay on my side, gasping like a fucking dying fish as Poison delivered kick after kick to my ribs. I kept my body clenched against the onslaught, protecting bones with thick muscles.

 Confusion and memories—the mess in my brain—evaporated, giving clarity.

When Poison’s leg came in grabbing distance, I reared up and head-butted his chest. He went down just like a giant oak tree, bouncing on the springy floor. “What the fuck, Fox?”

Climbing to my feet awkwardly, I kicked him once. “I said I wouldn’t put you back in the hospital, not that I wouldn’t try.”

“That’s a lie. You said you wouldn’t touch me. Period.”

I smiled, feeling a trickle of hot metallic drip from my nose into my mouth. “Oops.”

He charged upright and lunged. His shoulder connected with my chest, driving me backward to collide with the ropes.

I closed my eyes as he trapped me and welcomed the flurry of fists to my sides. Every bruise sent pleasure and relief. Every agony helped me inch toward bliss.

Poison danced away, fists held upright, protecting himself. I advanced, arms tied behind my back. Breathing was difficult. Seeing was difficult. Every movement screamed with pain. But I couldn’t stop yet. Not yet.

“Fox. Do—” he shouted just as I sprung and roundhoused his ear. Victory thudded swift and hot even as my wrists grew slick with blood from the twine.

Poison stumbled to the side, holding his head where I’d kicked him. His bald scalp showed a massive swelling building under the skin.

“You’ll pay for that,” he growled.

“Come and get me.” I stood taller, leaving myself wide open for a free shot to my jaw.

He wasn’t stupid. He sensed the trap and backed away, searching for a weakness. His hands flexed as he plotted his next manoeuvre.

I knew the moment he made a decision and jumped as high as I could go as he charged. The moment he rammed into me, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I used my skull to crash against his.

He stumbled, falling to the floor, landing on his side with me clinging to him. More stars flashed in my eyes, but I didn’t unlock my ankles.

He walloped me in the side, sending dull agony through my lower back. Another fist connected with my solar plexus, collapsing my lungs, so I couldn’t catch a breath.

Then he did a cheap shot.

An elbow landed in my groin. My balls shot inward, yelping in excruciation. Fire licked right through me. My legs let go on their own accord, and he pushed me away with an angry grunt.

The crowd’s chants and encouragement for Poison clanged in my ears. The agony of the junk shot sent nausea building in my gut.

Fucking cheater.

I rolled to my knees, bowing over bent legs, gasping through the wash of pain.

Poison stood, breathing hard. A cut spewed blood from his forehead, tracking on either side of his nose. “Done, Fox?”

“You’re never done. No matter what condition your body is in. You always finish the objective.” My handler stood above me with the all too familiar crowbar. He’d beaten me bloody enough times for me to shudder whenever he came near. I was right to fear him.

“Answer me, operative.”

“Yes, sir.” I kept my eyes downcast as he patrolled around me. I stood steadfast, not letting him see my fear. Out of nowhere, he thwacked the crowbar on my thighbone. It snapped with a horrible crunch.

 I bit my lip so hard it bled like a waterfall in my mouth, but I didn’t move from my position. I didn’t make a sound.

Shoving a gun with a silencer into my grip, he pointed toward the horizon where a compound full of diplomats and informants rested. “Go finish your mission, operative. If you succeed, then we’ll fix your leg.”

I nodded once and clutched the gun as if it could give me pain relief.

I hobbled off to work.

“Never done, Oaks,” I growled, launching myself upright. Dropping my shoulder, I knocked him off his feet and went down with him. He punched my jaw and my cheekbone, until a few teeth rattled, and I could no longer see out of my right eye.

Only when I let all the fight out of my body and flopped to the side did he stop punching me. “Done now, motherfucker?”

I grinned, no longer in my broken and bruised body, but floating in a sea of calmness. Peace, serenity—a drug of oblivion.

“Yes. Now I’m done.”

* * *

“You need to stop him from coming here. I’m done giving him his fucked-up therapy.”

I left my pain free haze, where no thoughts or flashbacks existed to pay attention to the rumble of male voices. A car door slammed, blocking off the noise of street life and night time comings and goings.

My body ached liked I’d been run over by a fucking train.

“Got it. It won’t happen again,” Oz’s cultured voice drifted quietly.

Goddammit, why had Poison called him? The one man I didn’t want to see. The man I owed an apology to. I could’ve driven home after I slept off the worst of it.

Swallowing, I winced. Okay, maybe I would need longer than just to sleep it off, but that’s what I loved about Poison Oaks. He gave me what I needed.

And I’d desperately needed an ass-kicking.

If you’re not careful you’ll turn him into your handler. Be a fucking man and own your own life.

I would if I knew how. How was a rogue killer supposed to exist in a world of hierarchy if he had no orders to follow?

They gave you the pill to end it. You know that’s what’s expected of you.

The cyanide pill they’d given me rested in my safe hidden in my wardrobe. I hadn’t done what was expected as I wanted to live.

I wanted to see what everyone else had—to live a different kind of life.

I twisted a little on the backseat where I’d been laid. The pain resonated through my body, keeping me focused and present. Smiling, I sighed.

Tonight was a good night.

Tonight had purged me enough to be safe around Zel.

Tomorrow, I would find her and beg for a second chance.

* * *

“Wake up, you idiot. We’re home.”

My left eye had swollen shut and the one that was still operational had a red haze over it from the blood oozing from my hairline.

Oscar opened the car door, glowering.

I glared back, squinting against the lights of the house illuminating him as he stood with his hands on his hips like a disgruntled father.

Bet he was glad he wasn’t my true father.

I killed him.

Swallowing hard, I focused on the aches and pains, so as not to remember last night. I couldn’t think about raping Zel—about the monster I’d become.

Groaning loudly, I pulled myself upright and practically fell out of the car.

Oscar grabbed me under the arm, hoisting me to my feet. This time I didn’t care that he touched me—his fingers held violence not companionship. I was used to that.

Instead of helping me into the building, he shoved me forward as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. “Get some rest. I’ll send up a medic.”

I stumbled and weaved forward. My ears pricked as he muttered, “God have mercy on your fucked-up soul.”

Giving him the one finger salute over my shoulder, I continued my swaying and shuffling journey toward my home.

My body creaked and complained, but slowly remembered how to move.

My blurry eyes peered at the horizon. Heavy black velvet blotted out all the stars and moonlight. I estimated the time was around two in the morning.

Shit. All I wanted to do was crash and sleep, but I couldn’t.

The sun would be missing for another four hours.

I would have to wait for my one and only friend to appear and protect me from nightmares.

My vigil for daylight had begun.