Chapter 6
Declan
What the hell is happening?
I feel like I’m being pulled to Lena in a way that is equal parts unavoidable and off-limits. It’s suffocating and addictive at the same time. Like trying to hold my breath underwater, knowing I need air but refusing to break the surface.
As I search her eyes, looking for something, anything, to ground me. Some kind of answer to a question I haven’t even fully formed. But all I find is her, staring back at me with those soft, haunted eyes.
Then her phone rings, slicing through the thick tension pressing between us.
I snap my gaze to the clock. Shit. It’s been almost an hour since I texted Jason.
“Answer it if it’s him. Tell him you’re on your way,” I say, stepping back before I do something I’ll regret.
I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption in my life. There’s a line with Lena I can not and will not cross.
She hesitates for a second before picking up, her expression unreadable.
“Hello?”
I motion for her to put it on speaker, and she does.
Jason’s voice drifts through the phone, smug and grating. “Good girl, I see you finally learned to listen.”
A sharp bolt of rage ignites in my chest. My fists clench at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I fight the urge to put my fucking fist through the nearest wall.
His hands marked her.
His voice is making her shrink in front of me.
And he thinks he’s won.
“I’m on my way,” she says quietly, wrapping her arms around herself.
Jason chuckles. “You answered my question before I even asked. You really have learned how to be a good girl.”
If he calls her that one more time, I swear to God, I’ll rip his fucking tongue out.
Lena glances at me, fear flickering in her eyes. And that’s when my anger shifts because yeah, she shouldn’t have been gambling in the first place, but she sure as fuck doesn’t deserve this.
“Tell him you’ll see him soon and hang up,” I whisper, reaching out and taking her hand.
Her fingers tremble slightly in mine. I squeeze, hoping it grounds her the way it’s grounding me.
She swallows hard. “Yeah, whatever. See you soon.”
The second she ends the call, she pulls her hand from mine and steps away. “Now what?” she asks, staring out the kitchen window, her arms still wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together.
I step behind her, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but not touching. Not yet.
“Now, you lock the door behind me when I leave. Do not open it for anyone, do you understand?”
She nods, but it’s not enough.
“Lena, look at me.”
Slowly, she turns, biting her bottom lip as she lifts her gaze to mine. Jesus Christ. I force my focus to stay on her eyes because fuck, she looks so damn tempting standing there in my oversized shirt and shorts.
“Do not open this door for anyone. Do not answer your phone. Do not call anyone. I need to handle this, and I need to know while I’m doing it that you’re safe. I can’t be worrying about you, not right now.”
Something flickers in her expression. Maybe understanding, maybe even trust. Her shoulders relax just a fraction, and she nods again, this time with more conviction.
“Okay.”
I exhale, some of the tension in my chest loosening.
“You can put the TV on if you want. I’ll be gone for a while.” I grab my cut and slip it on over my t-shirt. “There’s food and drinks in the fridge. Help yourself to anything.”
Her voice is quiet, hesitant. “What are you going to tell Wesley?”
I turn around and nearly crash into her.
Fuck.
She’s so close, close enough that I can still smell the faint trace of my soap on her skin, but beneath it, that sweet coconut scent that’s all hers wraps around me like a fucking noose. And she looks so small in my clothes, swallowed up by them, like she’s mine in some way that she isn’t.
And fuck if that doesn’t make me jealous.
I clear my throat and shove my hands in my pockets before I do something stupid. “Wesley will just be happy I found this scumbag. He’s not going to ask any questions.” It’s a lie. Wesley and Hux will ask a million questions, but she doesn’t need to worry about that.
The relief that washes over her face makes the lie worth it.
“Okay,” she murmurs, then hesitates. “Be careful.”
I huff out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Before I can think twice about it, I pull her in for a hug.
She melts against me, gripping the back of my shirt under my cut like she’s afraid to let go. Maybe it’s gratitude. Maybe it’s relief. Or maybe just maybe she just wants to keep me here a little longer.
And fuck, if I don’t want to stay.
It feels too good. She feels too good.
I pull back before I let myself sink too deep, tucking a damp strand of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flick up to mine, something unreadable swirling in their depths.
I force myself to step back, to let the space stretch between us again. “I’ll be back later. Please, don’t answer the door or use your phone.”
She nods, the smallest ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “I won’t. I promise.”
I want to believe her.
I just don’t know if I do.
Without looking back, I lock the door and close it behind me. There’s no other option but to walk to the abandoned gas station. If he sees my bike, he’ll leave immediately. I need to make sure I get this asshole before he even realizes he’s caught.
The walk is short, but it’s the longest walk I’ve ever taken.
My thoughts are consumed with Lena. The way I feel when I’m around her.
The things she’s been doing without any regard for herself.
The need to protect her that I’ll never understand.
The lies that are hidden. The truths that are buried.
And the way I want to make this son of a bitch suffer for causing her one ounce of harm.
As I approach the gas station, I scan my surroundings, every nerve in my body on high alert. The place is run-down, reeking of stale gas and regret.
I slip into the dark, covered pathway that used to lead inside, pressing my back against the rough brick wall. My pulse is steady, my breaths slow and controlled.
Then, I hear it. The deep, throaty rumble of an engine. A cocky, attention-seeking exhaust that screams, look at me.
Jason.
The black Thunderbird rolls into the lot, sleek and polished, a stark contrast to the decay around it. I’m not surprised it’s him, but I am surprised he’s driving something this classic. It doesn’t fit him. He’s too much of a coward to appreciate the kind of power under that hood.
He parks like he owns the damn place, stepping out of the car with the same smug arrogance that makes my fists itch. His eyes sweep the lot, searching for Lena, completely unaware that he’s the one being hunted.
His phone lights up in his hand, and I know he’s calling her.
Perfect.
I push off the wall and lunge.
The impact is hard and fast, the air rushing from his lungs in a strangled ‘oof’ as I slam him against his car.
“Whoa, what the fuck?—”
I don’t give him time to recover. I grab the front of his shirt and spin, shoving him back against the old brick building. His skull cracks against it, and his eyes go wide when he finally gets a good look at me.
“Yeah,” I growl, tightening my grip. “That’s right, motherfucker.”
“I’m getting your money! I still have time!”
A humorless chuckle escapes me. “Oh, your time was up the second you put your hands on a woman.”
His face goes pale. “I didn’t put my hands on anyone!” he shouts, his voice cracking.
“Now you’re lying.” I press harder, feeling the tremor in his body, the fear rolling off him in waves.
“Here’s the deal, Jason , you’re about to fight for your survival, just like all those fighters you bet on and refused to pay.
Let’s hope, for your sake, you’re just as tough against a man as you are a woman. ”
“Please,” he whimpers, his entire body trembling now. “Give me more time! I have a couple thousand in the car.”
“Too late.”
I yank him off the wall and slam him onto the hood of his Thunderbird. The impact rattles through my arms, but the satisfying crack of his ribs taking the hit makes my blood sing.
“She owed me money! I didn’t do shit to Lena!”
The moment her name leaves his mouth, my control shatters.
My fist connects with his face in a brutal right hook, the sickening crunch of cartilage breaking beneath my knuckles sending a sharp burst of pain up my arm. Blood spurts from his nose, splattering across the glossy black paint of his car.
“Don’t ever say her name.”
I hit him again, harder this time, and he crumples like a ragdoll.
“If her name passes your lips again, I’ll kill you before you even have a fucking chance to fight back. Do you understand me?”
Jason sputters, blood bubbling between his lips. His eyes are glassy with pain and fear, but then, through the haze, he smirks.
“Oh my God,” he croaks, his voice thick with blood. “You’re fucking her.”
That’s it.
A red haze clouds my vision, and before I even process it, I grab him by the collar and slam the back of his head against the car. His body slumps, dazed, but I’m not done. I throw him to the ground and drive my boot into his ribs.
Again.
And again.
His screams rip through the air, but it’s not enough. I crouch down, gripping his shirt and jerking him upright. His face is a mess. Blood streaming from his nose, lips split open, fear swimming in his eyes.
I lean in close, my voice low, dangerous.
“Here’s the only advice I’m gonna give you.” My knuckles brush his jaw, a silent promise of more pain. “I’ve been nice, but if you ever mention her name again, the club will not be so generous.”
I let that sink in, watching as realization dawns in his eyes.
“You should really do some fucking research before you take bets from people. Because they just might be family.”
His breath hitches.
Good.
I shove him off me, hoisting him up and throwing him into the backseat of his car. He groans, curling in on himself as I climb into the driver’s seat, locking the doors behind me. The car roars to life as I peel out of the parking lot, gravel kicking up behind us.
Jason sniffles from the back, his breathing ragged. When I glance at the rearview mirror, I see him wiping at his nose, his face a mess of blood and swelling.
Fucking pussy.
“Where’s the money?” I ask, voice flat.
“In the glove box,” he mutters weakly.
I pop it open, grab the stack of cash, and shove it into my pocket.
Then, I pull out my phone.
“Wesley,” I say the second he picks up, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I need you and Hux to meet me at Twisted Souls. Now.”
I don’t wait for a response.
I hang up and keep driving, my grip on the wheel tightening as Jason lets out a weak, pained groan behind me.
He’s lucky he’s still breathing.
I pull into the parking lot of Twisted Souls, and even though the place isn’t open until tonight, we never take chances. I don’t bother parking up front, I drive straight to the back, where the real business happens.
The entrance to the fight club.
Even during the day, this part of the lot is dark and secluded, boxed in by high fences and the weight of unspoken violence.
A pitiful whimper comes from the backseat.
“Please, I’ll get the money,” Jason begs, his voice hoarse, weak.
I don’t answer. Words won’t save him now.
I step out, open the door, and shove the seat forward, reaching in to yank him out. He struggles, limbs flailing, but against the adrenaline still coursing through me, it’s pointless.
His boot plants against the doorframe of the building in a feeble attempt to resist.
I chuckle, low and humorless. “For such a big talker, you sure are a fucking pussy.”
“Declan, what the fuck?”
Wesley’s voice cuts through the air, sharp with irritation. I glance up to see him storming toward me, his dark eyes taking in the scene. The blood on Jason’s face, the way I’ve got him by the collar like a disobedient dog.
The heavy metal door slams behind us. Jason is now ours.
I tighten my grip on his shirt and shove him against the nearest wall, pinning him in place.
“Time’s up,” I say, voice cold, controlled. “Saw him put his hands on a woman.”
Something in Wesley shifts. His already-dark gaze darkens further, a slow-burning rage settling into his features. He steps closer, his presence alone enough to make Jason flinch.
“Oh, is that so?” Wesley murmurs, his voice deceptively calm.
“Fuck you! I didn’t do shit!” Jason shouts, the weak attempt at bravado almost laughable.
Wesley and I exchange a glance before we both start laughing.
Jason shrinks back.
“Where’s Hux?” I ask, still grinning.
“Talking to Kaden. They’ll be here soon. Let’s get this piece of shit in a room.”
I nod, and together, we drag Jason down the hallway.
The fight club operates in a system. New fighters get locked up in small, windowless rooms with barely more than a mattress and a lightbulb.
If they survive their fights, they get an upgrade.
If they win big and start pulling in crowds, they’re given freedom, under the condition that they always return to fight. If they don’t, well, we hunt them down.
No one’s ever been dumb enough to test that rule.
The ones who win make serious money, and the ones who lose?
Well, they were already dead men walking.
Wesley yanks open the door to one of the smaller rooms, but before we shove Jason inside, heavy footsteps echo down the hall.
Hux and Kaden.
They step into view, both taking in the situation with assessing looks.
“What the fuck is this?” Hux asks, his sharp gaze flicking from Jason to me.
I tilt my head slightly toward Jason, making sure he understands, without words, that if he dares to mention Lena’s name, I’ll break his fucking jaw.
“Change of plans,” I say smoothly. “He likes putting his hands on women.”
A slow smirk spreads across Kaden’s face as he steps closer, eyes glinting with something cruel. “That right?” He studies Jason, tilting his head. “Looks like you just bought yourself a different kind of ticket to the fight club, son.”
Jason swallows hard. The fear in his eyes is one I’ve seen a thousand times before. These guys love to talk big, right up until they realize they’re about to pay the price.
Hux flicks open his lighter, the orange glow briefly illuminating his grin before he brings a cigarette to his lips.
“Lock him up,” he says, exhaling a stream of smoke. “We’ll get a fight scheduled for tomorrow night.”
He turns to Kaden. “Get the word out. People love an unexpected fight.”
Kaden’s smirk widens. “Oh, this one’s gonna sell big.”
Jason thrashes in our hold. “Wait! No! This isn’t?—”
Wesley silences him with a single punch to the gut. Jason crumples, wheezing, and we shove him into the room.
The door slams shut.
Tomorrow night, Jason is going to wish he never fucking met us.