Page 54 of Vow to Protect
“I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop this bullshit,” I snarl. “It should be your decision to leave Ireland. It has to be your choice to stay or to go, not his.”
“Promise me you won’t kill him.” Her fervid stare burns down my violent expectations. “Break this fucking curse and go home to Tilly with clean hands.”
“Here, you’ll need this.” I ignore her request, the consequences of murder whirling around my scars. Unzipping my hooded jacket, I drape it over her shoulders and pull the hood over her head. “We’re leaving—together. Keep your head down and stay close.”
She looks up into my eyes, beseeching my soul. I press my palms to her cheeks and swoop down, covering her lips with my own. It's a quick rush of morphine. A turbulent concoction of hunger and hope. She responds with a groan, melting into my torso with a wish for more. When our kiss breaks, Raen runs her fingers over my t-shirt, catapulting an array of tingles from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. The delicate softness tricks my mind into thinking she’s really mine, that we’re not in mortal danger.
“I want you to know, my decision would be to stay. But we both know I have to leave you, Brett. This all ends tonight.” She taps the scar beneath the fabric covering her heart. “Otherwise, he’ll never stop looking for me.”
Destruction flashes in my core, siphoning through my veins and poisoning my humanity. Envisioning her death tips my sanity.
I lose control and buckle up for battle.
Brett’s hands ball,and his eyes flare obsidian like molten tar. I’ve seen that look in a man's eyes before. It’s a threatening fury that steals souls. He growls in a low rumble depicting his distaste for my choice of words.
“It’s up to me to end this, Brett.” My heart misses a beat with that statement. “I’m sorry I ever got you into this,” I whisper. A pulsating vein in his neck thrums out a warning. “I…”
“Eyes down. Follow me,” he cuts in. “Keep close. Got it?” The gentleness in his demeanour is snuffed out. A firm palm spans my bicep with so much power I shudder. He pulls out a mobile and taps out a brief message. “Help is coming. For now, we need to make our way to the exit.”
As the hinges squeak and we face the crowd, he stands in front of me like the god of chaos ready for war. A deafening ruckus reverberates around us like crashing waves. I shuffle out behind him, doing exactly what he says. My eyes stick to the concrete, littered with crumpled betting slips and moving shoes. Brett wades in deeper. I follow.
We’re sucked into the mass. Voices boom. Lighters spark. The referee counts up to three. Without warning, rough hands slam down on my shoulders. In one stammered heart palpitation, I’m yanked backward. Bodies gather around me. Someone whips the hood back, revealing my messy long lengths. Dexter squeezes my jaw, narrowing his eyes to slits. Then he circles me and secures my arms from behind. My terrified gasp is lost in thundering masculine rapture.
Until rowdiness breaks to an uncomfortable hush. Over a sea of heads Blaine strides on a platform, taking centre stage in the ring. Flawless combed hair settles in a glossy wave, appearing wet beneath the spotlights. There’s not a strand out of place, nor a single crease on his impeccably pressed shirt. He gestures to the bloodied fighters held back in their respective corners. Paper notes flutter like confetti in the aftermath.
Blaine’s polished appearance draws the spectator’s attention. He’s ever so handsome, portraying charm on his false throne with misleading civility.
“Let’s call that a draw!” He announces into the microphone. “For those of you who don't know me,” he begins. “I am Blaine Casey. I own this club.” He pauses and smirks. “And this city.” Hands clap. I search for Brett among the shadowed faces of strangers. The blinding light deletes him from me. Panic fogs my mind. “And tonight, I’ve got a surprise for you.” The harder I strain to escape, the stronger the hold clamping my upper half becomes. “Dexter?” Blaine hooks his forefinger in the air.
With my spine to his chest, his knees knock into the back of mine, forcing me to stagger. Groups of men silent with intrigue edge out of the way, giving us full unrestricted access to the ring. I scrape at locked elbows, biting the bare flesh on Dexter’s chorded forearm. But the more I struggle, the more Blaine laughs into the microphone. His wicked titter splits me in two. “Everyone, this is Raen,” he introduces. Whispers and murmurs wisp through the calm. “Let’s give her a warm welcome.” With a shunt, I’m propelled under the ropes. My cheek smacks into the lightly padded covering as I land. Blaine toes me with his tan shoe. “Get up.”
A wolf whistle shrills and a sleazy guy shouts, “How much?”
I glance over my shoulder, searching for Brett, but the whites of eyes gleaming under the bright lights aren't his. My throat constricts as the beating in my neck races. I won’t face this fucker on my knees.
Clambering onto my shins, I grapple with the ropes and pull myself up onto shaky legs. My shoulders draw back and I lift my gaze to the beautiful monster who has the empathy of a parasitic amoeba and the soul of Satan.
“She’s not for sale.” He steps into me with minty breath as cold as winter. “I might keep her.” Blaine winks. “Or maybe I’ll make a fortune instead. Who would like to find her hidden treasure? They say ‘X’ marks the spot, right?”
My spine freezes. “No!” I bounce into the ropes behind me.
“Let’s start by removing the rather ugly jacket.” I’ve nowhere to go. “Do you need a little reminder of your choices, feisty little Raen?”
“Fuck you,” I spit out. “You can try to humiliate me with your sick games, but I’m better than you, Blaine. I have a soul.”
He laughs. “Who needs a soul? I have money and power.” His shoulders lift lightly to his jaw. “I have choices, lots and lots of choices. You, on the other hand, only had two. You chose to leave. And now, the winner of the next fight will own you.”
An explosion of applause electrifies the hairs on my scalp. Blaine slips his hand into his trouser pocket, removing an ivory handle. I gulp, eyeing his weapon of choice. “Now, show the good men of Scrios your mark, dear little Raen.”
Dragging the zipper down, I slide my arms free of the sleeves and fold Brett’s jacket in half. The comforting scent of his skin disappears when I set it down on the canvas. Next, I haul off the oversized hoody, which is met with crude approval. I stand in tracksuit bottoms and bra with my disfigured chest on show.
“She may have a few slices of warning in place to ensure exemplary behavior. However, I know a fine young woman like this would come in useful?” Blaine holds out his hands, playing the part of asshole so well. “I’m sure you can train obedience through various methods. Who wants to take her home tonight?”
I choose not to cover the macabre throbbing in my thorax. With any luck it will deter the leering bastards from entering the competition. This is who I am now. I won’t die a coward.
“I’ll fight for her.” That familiar baritone warms over my skin like sun rays streaming through thick clouds. My hero appears from the shadows, angles beneath the parallel ropes and stands tall. “She’s mine,” Brett confirms with a pensive glaze to his starless eyes. They drill into mine, valiant and controlled.
My head shakes from side to side, and I mouth the word no. He can’t do this. Not for me. He’s risking everything. A future with Tilly. A life.
