Page 90 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

I had to get the fuck out of this place.

Thankfully, the opportunity announced itself on day six.

“You’re fighting this weekend,” Luka said when he picked me up from the gym to walk me to dinner.

“That’s short notice,” I replied while trying to remember the fight schedule. The fight this weekend was set for Toronto. That was just across the border. If I got even a moment alone after the fight, I could slip out.

“It’s the last one before Paris, so you’ll have to win.”

“Sure,” I replied, barely listening. Once a fight was over, Petya usually didn’t care about me for a few days until the cuts and bruises healed enough for me to look pretty in pictures and keep training for the next fight.

When the matches were just fights, no schemes, he just wanted a show pony. Not a bleeding, black and blue, fucked-up piece of meat. Even if I slipped his grasp, he wouldn’t give a fuck, not when I was too injured to keep fighting, and too banged-up for triumphantly posed pictures.

He wanted a win? Fine. I’d just have to make it a bloody one.

Everyone huddledaround me when I got out of the octagon. Yury, Luka, some ringside doctor I didn’t recognize, my uncle,his men, some kid taking my gloves. People prodded and rubbed and dabbed and talked. It all blurred together with the adrenaline of the fight still rushing through my veins.

The only crystal clear thought I had was that I had to get out of here.

My eyes roamed the arena, the halls, scanning for exit signs and open doors.

Someone tried to usher me to the first aid room, but I kept barreling for the locker rooms.Shower. The second I got in the shower, they’d leave me alone.

I wiped at something on my face and my hand came back covered in blood and vaseline. Before I could wipe again, someone smeared a new layer of vaseline on my cheek bone to stop the bleeding.

“Shower,” I mumbled when my locker room was finally in sight, then repeated myself louder, “shower.”

“I think hospital would be more appropriate,” Luka hissed, low enough not to draw attention.

I shouldered through the door to my dressing room - and stopped dead in my tracks. A slew of people collided with my back, and the fact that I didn’t even stumble should have told them all how superficial these wounds were. Not that any of that mattered. Not the blood, not the people, not their jumble of comments or their hands on me.

My eyes met Cordelia’s stormy blue gaze across the room when she turned from the big screen in the corner to me.

Cordelia.

Her hands were in her hair, wrapping it around her fingers, twisting it and combing it, while she stayed frozen in place, blinking rapidly. She was trying not to look at the others. People. There were too many people.

“Get out,” I barked without taking my eyes off her.

“Vitya, where are your manners?” My uncle shifted next to me, his broad frame moving into my peripheral vision.

“Please,” I grit through clenched teeth, “get the fuck out.”

“You should introduce us to your famous girlfriend,” he said and took a step forward.

My hand shot out, making his chest collide with my arm. “Take another step and it will be your last.”

That finally got everyone to shut the fuck up, and Cordelia’s eyes steadied on me. My words hung in the still air. I didn’t fucking care how stupid it was to threaten my uncle in front of everyone. I’d break his goddamn neck with my own hands if he took one more step towards my girl.

“Very well,” he finally said and clicked his tongue, “another time.”

That was enough for all of them to get their asses moving. I only took my eyes off Cordelia long enough to shut the door and twist the lock.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confusion and worry mixing with the insane relief of seeing her face.

“I was… I just…” She pressed each word out through labored breaths. Her cheeks were as flushed as if she’d been the one to throw endless punches. “I just came… I mean I wanted…” Every time she started a sentence, her eyes jumped back and forth between me and the door. Fuck.

“Look at me.” I crossed the room in a few strides and cradled her soft face in both hands. Drawing my thumbs over her temples in soothing circles, I lowered my voice, forcing myself to sound calmer than I felt. “It’s just you and me in here, zhizn’ moya. Just us. One room, two people. The outside doesn’t matter. We’re inside. We’re safe.”

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