I’ve seen some sick-fucking-shit in my life. Men fighting after they’ve had digits removed by their ‘owners’ for disobedience, my sister half-naked in the hot tub with a townie, one of my brothers balls-deep in his college professor, but the gleam in Col’s eyes when he forces his niece’s lips to land on his mouth cuts the fucking cake.
Ophelia was more friendly with the seniors at our high school than her female counterparts, but since it was brushed off as her wanting to gain their approval than her being too sexually advanced for her age, I didn’t think much of it.
I am now, though, and the thoughts are as ugly as I’m about to make Col Petretti’s face.
He wants to see me fight. Who am I to deny his every wish?
I’ll give him a front-row seat to the festivities, bloody nose and all.
At the same time I throw my leg over the leather seat of my motorbike, Demi stumbles out of the back of her uncle’s Audi. Her lips are cracked and dry, her eyes are brimming with tears, and blood is dribbling from both her nose and a cut in her cheek, yet her attention is far from herself. It isn’t even on her uncle. It’s solely devoted to me.
“Turn around, Maddox. This isn’t your fight.”
“Like fucking hell it isn’t.” My words sound as if they were delivered straight from the fiery underground I referenced, fueled by the annoyance Col is even more of a coward than predicted.
He’s such a weak prick when I climb into his car to drag him out by the lapels of his fancy suit, he doesn’t draw his gun on his niece. He orders one of his goons in the front seat to jab it under her ribs instead.
“One more crinkle to my suit will see you spending the weekend scraping her body parts off the asphalt so you’ll have something to bury.”
The brutal heave of my lungs is heard in my reply when I yell in his face, “She’s your fucking blood, you sick prick.”
His laugh is as evil as his soul. Unfortunately, it isn’t loud enough to drain out the sob that escapes from Demi’s mouth when she’s brutally clutched by Col’s head goon. Since I didn’t immediately jump to Col’s demand, Demi is being forced to endure the punishment of my disobedience. That’s almost as bad as me believing a single thing Agent Moses said about her. Deep down, I knew she wouldn’t have done the things he said, I was just worried my years’ long obsession had me refusing to absorb the truth.
That’s done with now.
After fixing Col’s crumpled suit in a manner that reveals I look forward to fucking it over more ways than Sunday once his niece is far from his reach, I climb out of the cabin of his car, then sling my narrowed eyes to the man fisting Demi’s hair so firmly, she has to balance on her tippy toes to save her glossy locks from being ripped from her scalp. “Let her go.”
The dumb fuck acts as if I didn’t speak. He maintains his arrogant stance, his grip on Demi’s hair only weakening when Col signals for him to stand down.
After watching me pull Demi behind me in a protective manner, Col clicks his fingers at the man seated behind the steering wheel. Two clicks and a business card is thrust over the privacy petition separating him from the two men in the front seat.
“Meet me at this address tomorrow night at nine o’clock sharp.”
Col jots down an address on the back of his business card before he passes it to a shuddering Demi peering at him over my shoulder. He’s smart. Even though the card is for me, he hands it to Demi because he knows not even the threat of being shot will stop me from getting in a punch when he’s within striking distance. That’s how much I despise this prick. I’ve never wanted to kill a man until now, and a quick, painless death isn’t at the top of my wish list.
I want to torture this fucker and smile while doing it.
After drinking in the pure rage reddening my face, Col says, “Wear white. The more blood, the more money you’ll pocket—”
“I’m not fighting for you,” I interrupt, my voice almost a growl. “I’d rather starve.”
“Okay.” I stare at him, stunned as fuck he gave in so quickly. He’s a coward, but he is usually more on the ball when it comes to threats. “If he doesn’t show up, I’ll finish what I started beforeIdecide where we go next.” He isn’t looking at me. His eyes are locked with Demi’s. “Do you understand, Andi?”
The quiver wreaking havoc with Demi’s tiny body exposes why she reacted so fiercely when I shortened her middle name yesterday. I did it in jest because her christened name is so similar to her male cousin, it felt odd expressing it while having improper thoughts about how sugary her mouth most likely tastes. I had no clue it had been used against her before, and Col’s seedy delivery guarantees I’ll never use it again.
When Demi nods, albeit sheepishly, Col grins a victorious smirk. “Good.” He shifts his eyes to the dark pair watching him in the rearview mirror. “We’re good to go.” As the driver seeks an opening in traffic, Col issues one final warning. “Tomorrow, Andi. Don’t let me down.”
Instincts tell me to go after him, but my head is so fucking messed up right now, I doubt my legs would move even if demanded. There are a million questions I need to ask, and only one person who can answer them.
“What did he mean he’d finish what he started? What did he start, Demi?” I almost choke on my last question when my eyes land on her face. It’s more fucked up than first realized. The graze across her cheek is deep enough she’ll most likely need stitches, and the red welt on her cheek is now purple. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
Demi waits until her uncle’s car is lost in a stream of traffic before she shifts her focus to me. Even then, she isn’t really with me. Her eyes are wide and terrified, her lips are trembling so much every time her tongue delves out to replenish them with moisture, I’m afraid she’ll gnaw it off, and the dams in her eyes are close to spilling over. She’s petrified, so you can imagine my utter shock when she steps back before murmuring, “You can go. I’m fine.”
With her words impacting my heart more than any punch I’ve endured, I almost fold in two. “I’m not going anywhere.” When I take a step closer to her, her dilated gaze bounces between mine. “Except here…” I tap the card she’s holding so tightly, a large crease careens down the middle of it. “So you don’t have to face whatever he’s holding over your head.”
She shakes her head so fiercely, I’m shocked big salty blobs don’t topple down her cheeks. “You can’t fight for him, Maddox.”
“Why not? I’m a good fighter. I’ll win.”
