Page 6 of Ruin

Handsy Asshole lets go of my wrist and spins around to face the voice that just sent chills down my back. And not the good kind of chills.

My eyes cut up and over the head of Handsy Asshole, and for the first time in five years, I stare into the eyes of Zeus Kincaid.

The cheating bastard and heartless son of a bitch who walked away from me and his unborn child.

Ah, fuck to the hell no.

The shock of seeing him after all this time has his name rushing out of my lungs. “Zeus.”

“Hi, Dove.” His familiar deep voice saying the nickname he gave me all those years ago elicits a thousand memories. Good and bad.

I used to love it when he called me Dove.

Now, I hate it.

He called me it from the moment we met. Said I was like a dove. Beautiful and fragile. With my fight hidden inside me.

And, as time went on, Zeus said I was his peace in the chaos that was his life. I was his little dove.

And I believed him.

Until he decided he no longer needed his dove, and he stripped me of my wings and left me to die.

But I didn’t die, and I got my wings back, too.

So, fuck you, Zeus.

“Hey…I know you.” Handsy Asshole stares up at Zeus, pointing his finger at him.

Handsy isn’t small by any means of the word. Probably about five-eleven at a guess, but Zeus is bigger. Half a foot bigger to be exact. Six foot five and built of solid muscle.

And that’s why he’s the current heavyweight champion boxer of the world. That, and his God-given talent to hurt people. Most of the time, he doesn’t even have to hit people to hurt them.

I’m living proof right here.

“Yeah, I know you. You’re Zeus Kincaid, right? Holy shit! You are! I can’t fucking believe it! Zeus fucking Kincaid. Dude, you’re amazing! I won two Gs on your last fight. Hey, can I get a picture? My buddies aren’t gonna believe this!”

Tearing my eyes from Zeus, I don’t wait around to listen to his response. I use it as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

Moving swiftly, I push up to stand, and I run down the steps off the podium. I quickly start making my way through the crowd, heading straight for the staff room.

My heart is pounding, my mind racing, and my feet can’t move fast enough to get me out of there and away from Zeus.

I can’t believe he’s here.

I’m about ten steps away from the staff door, almost home free, when a hand curls around my biceps, bringing me to a stop.

I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

I tilt my face in Zeus’s direction, tipping my head back to stare up into his face. I’m five nine—five eleven in my boots. Not short for a woman, but Zeus has always made me feel small.

I used to love that feeling.

Now, I hate it.

“What are you doing here?”

What am I doing here? That’s it? That’s all he has to say to me after five years of silence?