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Not in this hellhole.
A fleeting memory sears through my mind – me, at the age of sixteen, fists bloodied, teeth clenched, fighting older boys in grimy alleys for a handful of cash. Cash that would buy food for another night, alcohol to keep my father’s rages at bay, drugs to numb my mother’s despair.
Fighting to survive, always fighting.
The crowds are chanting now.
“More!”
“More!”
“More!” they howl, hungering for blood like a pack of wild animals.
They want more. Fucking cowards – all of them.
I look up, a sneer on my face, and show them a middle finger.
“Boooo!” they shout back, voices dripping with disappointment and anger.
“That was fucking brutal, man. You sure you’re alright?” Erik is there, slapping me on the back, his face flushed with the thrill of the fight.
I wipe the blood from my mouth, my eyes dark. “I’m fine. Just thinking about that son of a bitch Aleks. I want to do the same to him.”
Erik’s smile fades, and he looks at me seriously. “We’ll get him tomorrow. But we have to be smart. And you need to cool down.”
“Cool down? He’s fucking with us, Erik! Someone’s feeding him information; I know it. I’ll rip their fucking throat out when I find them.”
And then, she comes strutting out. This woman with a dress so tight it looks like it’s painted on. Half her fake tits spilling out, and her lips so big and shiny they look like they could be popped with a pin. She licks those fake lips, thinking it’s sexy, but it makes my stomach turn.
I’m thinking of that girl – Wren. My mind goes to her lips. Real, plump, sexy lips like Angelina Jolie’s. Those eyes, though…wild and fierce, they ignite something in me that I’ve never felt before. I’ve never seen anything like it – her, naked, blood splattered all over her body, a knife in her hand, ready to fight to the death. She’s ferocious, untamed, and something in me desires that wildness, that fire.
The fighter in me wants to battle her, to dominate her, but the man in me wants to possess her, to claim her as mine.
What the fuck?
I shake the thoughts away, knowing they’re dangerous. But they linger, like the scent of blood in the air, taunting me, challenging me.
I chuckle, a dark sound, at the memory of those bastards on the ground, both dickless and lifeless. Pathetic. She’d been terrifying, and goddamn, it’s attractive.
Never in my life have I seen anyone like her.
Suddenly, the annoying voice of the fake-lipped woman brings me back to the present. “Congratulations, handsome. Here’s your prize.” She’s trying so hard, batting those ridiculous fake lashes at me. She thinks she’s got my attention, but all I see is the rawness of that other woman, the fire. The realness in the face of danger.
She presses the $10,000 cardboard to my chest, her nails like talons on my skin. I shove it back at her, feeling a flare of disgust.
“Give it to that dude.” I jerk my thumb at my beaten opponent, bloodied and moaning on the floor. “I’m not here for the money.”
Her eyes widen, her lips forming an exaggerated “O.” She shakes her head. “But darling, it’s $10,000! Think of what you could do with all that money!”
Money. I have plenty now.
Millions even.
That’s not the point.
I see her pout, those absurd lips puckering like she’s sucking on a lemon, but I don’t give a damn. My mind’s already drifting back to the past, to the time when money was everything.
I turn from her, her fakeness turning my stomach, and head for the door. No looking back.
