Page 7

“Yeah. Get in here,” I say, backing into my corner of the ring.

“Wait … y-you want to fight me?” he asks, his expression morphing into pure excitement. That’s the thing with these pretty boys, they’ll do just about anything if you stroke their ego. And I intend to stroke the fuck out of his.

“Pierce, come on, man. You’re my best fighter. Now get the fuck in here and prove it,” I growl. A smile stretches across his face, the sight making me internally grimace. I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do to him. Almost.

“Fuck yeah, man. Let’s go,” he says, stripping his shirt and tossing it to the ground as he climbs into the ring to wrap his hands.

An onlooker grabs a pair of boxing gloves and tosses them to Pierce. He catches them, pulling them on as several other people gather around to watch the show. Pierce bounces up and down on his toes, his excitement palpable.

I clap my gloves together, the sound loud enough to stun the room into hushed whispers. The energy begins to shift, the chatter around us morphing into nothing but background noise as I focus on Pierce. I stop moving, drop my hands to my sides, and tilt my head at him. My prey catches sight of my sudden stillness, and I spot the crack in his defense before he can mask it. Samuel Pierce might be my best fighter, but you can bet on your last penny that I’m better.

“C-Cal?” he stutters, his panicked words the last thing I hear before he’s knocked out cold.

☽ ✦ ☽

I didn’t kill Samuel Pierce, don’t worry. The pretty boy will live to see another day. I did severely bruise his ego and his pretty face, but he’s the idiot who jumped into the ring with the owner of a boxing gym. He’ll be fine, and he’ll have learned a valuable lesson in what not to do when faced with a greater opponent.

I, however, feel much better now that I’ve gotten the fire out of my veins. My skin is no longer itchy, my nerves no longer begging to be severed. I can breathe, finally. I suck in a deep breath, my helmet visor fogging up on the exhale as “Change” by Deftones plays over the helmet speaker. I don’t think about a single fucking thing as I make my way to part two of my Lydia Aston detox, Dorian motherfucking Reilly.

I turn into Sonus and park my bike, discarding my helmet and hanging it over the handlebars. I hear a bike entering the parking lot behind me, turning to watch as Malakai, one of my band brothers, pulls into the lot beside me on his blacked-out KTM 690 Enduro. He parks, taking off his helmet and shaking out his bleached blonde hair like a fucking dog. Grinning, he places the helmet onto the handlebars and heads toward me.

“Hey, man,” he says, moving in for a handshake as he pulls me in for a side hug.

It’s his thing. I don’t care for it, but I tolerate it for him. The kid has a serious drug addiction. Well, he had a serious drug addiction. I’m holding out hope that his therapist is truly working some miracle on him this time. Maybe she is, because he’s been sober for about four months now.

Everyone seems to have a soft spot for Malakai Vale, including me for some reason. That’s the main reason why I called Kai to help me with this. I made a promise to Riven that I’d play a part in Kai’s rehabilitation, and including Kai in something like this is essential to that. Kai told us that he didn’t want to be treated like a child, that he needed his friends. His brothers. Call me old school, but I don’t break promises, and I don’t abandon found family.

“Hey,” I grumble, pulling from his prolonged embrace and readjusting my attitude. I clear my throat and try again. “Hey, Kai. It’s good to see you.”

He straightens, assessing me with scrutiny. “Uhh, yeah. Good to see you too, man.” He pats me on the shoulder, and we head for the entrance. “So, what are we up to today? And why are you all sweaty?”

“Dorian,” I say without explanation. “And I came from the gym.”

“You’re fighting again?” he asks, his expression worried. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, and I’m fine. Better now. Let’s go,” I say.

“If you say so,” he starts. “Damn, I almost forgot you guys left that prick hanging from the ceiling. Serves his ass right, though.”

We make it to the door, and I reach out for the new fingerprint scanner that Riven had installed after the fallout with Sabel. Opening the box, I plant my thumb firmly on it. The light turns green, and I hear a click before the door pops open.

“Sick! Sonus is getting fancy,” Kai says, eyeing the scanner.

He lifts his hand toward it, and I give him a sideways glance until he lowers it. I’m relieved when he doesn’t ask about his own fingerprint activation. Riven didn’t give anyone access besides himself and me, and I’m not going to be the one to tell the other two idiots.

Kai sighs as we walk inside and down the long hallway to the torture room in silence. The building is mostly empty today, except for a few key personnel Riven deemed worthy of staying. We’re trying to build this place up to be better than it was before. The city of Hollowcrest deserves that. When I reach the door, I pause to glance over at Kai.

“What?” Kai asks, eyes wide with excitement.

“Don’t do anything unless I tell you to. Don’t touch anything, and keep your mouth shut,” I mutter.

Kai eyes me momentarily, deciding not to argue. I can see the flicker of hurt behind his light blue eyes, but I don’t give it another second to fester inside of my black heart. I have no time for feelings.

“Yeah, man. Whatever,” he says, playing it off.

I open the door and flick on the fluorescent lights. Dorian groans but doesn’t lift his head in our direction. The poor fucker probably doesn’t have the energy to move his neck. I can’t say that it makes me feel sorry for him, either. He deserves worse than what Riven has planned for him. If it were up to me, Dorian Reilly wouldn’t even be an issue right now, because he’d be six feet below the fucking earth. But it’s not up to me. Dorian is Riven’s father, for lack of a better word. Whatever Riven wants me to do to him, I will. Even if that means letting the fucker go.

“Holy ballsack, Dorian. You look like shit on a stick,” Kai says from beside me.