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Her enthusiasm must overwhelm her because next thing I know, Britt’s arms are around me, pulling me into a hug. My shocked brain takes a minute to catch up. When it does, I hesitantly lift my hands to place them on her back.
I must give off some sort of signal when my arms close around her, because Britt instantly melts into my chest and lets out a tiny sigh. Her body relaxes and when it does, I realize how tense her muscles were. Did I relax her? My touch wouldn’t unwind her. I cause fear and pain, not take it away. People do not come to me for comfort.
Completely out of character, I go with my desires and duck my head, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling deep. Citrus combined with the soft scent of femininity hit me hard. How long has it been since I’ve held someone I care about?
I nearly laugh with the ridiculousness of it all. I’ve never held a girl I cared about. I’ve had sex. That’s it. Dirty, raw, sex. No emotions, no connections, nothing but selfish pleasure. But this? It’s different.
And now, I want more.
* * *
“Hey man, congrats on the big card.”
I spin around to come face-to-face with Jackson Wolfe. Wolverine. The nickname makes me want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. Like I can say anything. I’m called Killer, but at least I have a reason. I’m pretty sure he’s not an actual wolf. I stare at the other fighter curiously. This is the first time he’s spoken to me since I knocked him on his ass a few weeks ago. The way he manipulates Britt irritates me to no end, and the phony smile on his face practically invites another punch.
Instead, I keep my expression neutral, as usual, giving him only a slight nod of acknowledgement.
Jackson frowns, not getting the response he desired. “I’m on the same card, so I guess we’ll be traveling together.” He smirks. “And Britt, of course.”
Fuck. Dealing with this idiot while prepping for the biggest fight of my fledgling career is not what I need right now. Plus, he’s right, Britt will be with us as well, so I’m certain my emotions—what very few I have—are going to be in knots. If he starts using Britt to piss me off, it won’t take much to push me into losing my temper.
Instead of answering, I turn and walk away, leaving Wolverine to stew over my obvious brush-off. Fuck him. It’s not required for me to like him. I only have to tolerate him. And be sure not to beat him to death.
Britt and Gabriel are waiting for me in his office so we can start our meeting. After my interaction with Wolfe, I’m seething and frustrated. All I want to do is jump into the cage and beat the fuck out of something, release this shit building up inside. Confusing new emotions like jealousy are dueling with my usual focused, raw fury.
The dark, hollow place in my chest isn’t equipped for this. I fight, I fuck, I exist. Nothing more, nothing less.
Furious, I walk over to Gabriel’s office and shove open the door. It bangs against the wall with a loud crack, causing Gabriel to frown and Britt to cry out. Just like that, she drops to the floor, curling into a ball and covering her head with her hands.
Gabriel leaps to his feet, hurrying around his desk to crouch next to a huddling, quivering Britt. Stunned, I stand at the door frozen, unsure what is going on or what I should do.
“Meu filha! Britt! What is happening?” Gabriel’s voice hitches as he tries to pull Britt out from under his desk. His head whips around to face me. “Killer! ¡Venha aqui e ayudar!” Get over here and help.
I cross the space in two quick steps, approaching Gabriel’s desk from the opposite side. Britt’s tiny frame is tucked into a tight ball, her knees pulled to her chest, head ducked, and arms curled protectively over her head.
Protecting her from what?
“Britt,” I say in as composed of a voice as I can manage, which at this moment, isn’t saying much. Not a lot freaks me out, but right now, watching Britt fall to pieces, has me struggling to keep calm. “Please, come out.”
Britt is quietly sobbing, her body shuddering in fear. Watching her in such obvious distress sends a stabbing pain through my chest. Not sure this is the best thing for her, but not knowing what else to do, I crawl under the desk. Being as large as I am, I can only get my head and shoulders in next to her.
Gabriel slides into nervous, staccato Portuguese. “I w
ill leave you to take care of her. Let me know when she’s feeling better and I will return.” He stands and leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him.
He left me with her?
What the fuck am I supposed to do? At a loss, I do the only thing that comes to mind. It worked to relax her before, so why not? I gather her tiny, trembling body up in my arms, and hold her. Britt immediately unwinds her arms, clutching me tight, burying her face into my shirt, her tears dampening the fabric.
On the floor in my trainer’s office, lying half under a desk, a tiny shard of my black soul becomes human again.
Britt
My frantic pulse slows down the moment K pulls me into the protective circle of his arms. There’s just something about him that brings me peace. He’s able to take away my anxiety with a single touch.
The gunshot-like sound of the door hitting the wall triggered some sort of flashback or deeply buried memory of “the incident.” I’ve remembered bits and pieces of that day here and there, just flashes, never enough to put together anything concrete. The loud bang, however, somehow managed to dig into the deep recesses of my damaged brain to unearth something horrific. A memory.
Me, hiding under something as gunshots ring out.
