Chapter 6 #2
Mateo hated setting up a punishment that allowed the others to get anywhere near her, but he was painfully aware that his every move was being watched and assessed.
Griffin was no doubt looking for anyone he could punish in the wake of Nathan slipping through their fingers.
He wouldn't be the only one being watched, but right now it was his neck on the line because everyone knew he’d had a thing with his neighbor.
At least for now, they also seemed to believe that she didn't mean anything to him. He’d pushed her harder than he wanted to in that room, hated making her jerk him off while she was so vulnerable when all their other intimate interactions had been about him trying to empower her, but he needed to make this look believable.
It was both his and Ally’s heads on the line if he didn't.
But knowing that Deacon, Adrian, William, Hank, Henry, Marvin, and Josh, possibly Van as well, although the man was unpredictable, were all going to her, touching her most private parts, painting her with the evidence of the orgasm she gave them, made him feel physically ill.
In fact, he felt so on edge that he’d had no choice but to leave the warehouse for a while.
It was either that, or he was going to start killing everyone.
It would feel so good, slamming his fists into the men’s faces repeatedly until they were unrecognizable.
The sight of their bloody features would soothe the pounding rage.
Since he couldn’t really start killing the members of Azure, he’d come here.
An underground fighting ring. A place that had been part of his life since he was fourteen years old. Back then, he’d gotten accidentally caught up in the place because he used to sneak out of his bedroom at night, wander the streets, with no real purpose other than he hated being in that house.
Hated being around his family after what they’d done to him.
One night, he’d been found by a retired Navy SEAL. Sullen and untrusting, young Mateo hadn't given an explanation as to why he was out on the streets after midnight, but the gruff older man had sensed something in him. Something worth investing in.
Because Mateo was such an angry kid, the SEAL took him to a boxing ring and started training him.
Immediately, Mateo felt his anger begin to subside.
Boxing had become not just an outlet for his emotions, but a way to train his body and mind.
The more he hit the bag, the less he felt the need to hit others.
The less that need to hit others occupied his every waking moment, the more he was able to focus on other things.
Like what his future was going to look like.
A future he had already known wasn't going to include his family.
From the moment they made the decision to walk away from him when he was injured, leaving him alone on the side of the mountain in the middle of a horrendous storm, as they hiked themselves out to safety, he’d known he was done with them.
Their excuses that they would send back help, that other kids needed to be gotten to safety, that staying was a death sentence for all of them, had shown him he could never trust them again.
Never trust anyone again.
Because he hadn't died that night. He’d been badly injured, the others—including his own parents and brothers—had all thought he was going to die, it was why they’d left him. They thought staying would end with all of them dying instead of just him.
But he didn't die. He managed to drag his body, mangled from a fall, across almost eleven miles of rough terrain in the middle of a thunderstorm, complete with torrential rain and hail. He should have died, shouldn’t have been able to move, let alone traverse that distance.
By the time he’d been found in the morning by some passing hikers who had waited out the storm in an abandoned hunter’s cabin, he was as close to death as it was possible to be while still having a beating heart.
Mateo had no memories after collapsing in front of the hikers, not until he woke up in the hospital eight days later. His parents had been by his side, like nothing had happened, like they hadn't quite literally abandoned him to die alone on the side of a mountain.
They might have wanted to pretend it didn't happen, but Mateo could never forget.
Never forget pleading with his parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, and cousins, not to leave him. The overwhelming terror when they told him they had to leave so they could live, like his death was a foregone conclusion. Fourteen was far too young to be facing your own mortality.
His life had changed forever that day, and he’d never been able to go back. The second he’d turned eighteen, he’d gone no contact, and blocked everyone everywhere, and had nothing to do with them in the intervening twenty years.
Fighting had taught him to shield his heart and his emotions, not just his body, and in all these years, there had only been one person able to get past his shields.
One woman with the softest red hair he’d ever tangled around his fists as he kissed her until he couldn’t breathe, with the plumpest lips he’d ever touched, and the sweetest pair of blue eyes he’d ever gotten lost staring into.
Now that woman was suffering through hell, and it was all his fault. Brushing his fingers across the bracelet in his pocket, he tried to remember that one day he’d make sure it got back to her. Once she was home, safe.
“You here to fight tonight?” the SEAL who’d saved him asked as Mateo stormed into the gym.
The man had been his only real friend for the last two decades.
Robert Romano might skirt the law, running an underground fighting ring that was frequented by gangs, where illegal gambling happened, and drugs were freely available for sale, but the man had served his country, and if this was how he had to deal with the horrors he’d seen and endured, then Mateo thought he should be left alone to do it.
“Yeah. I need to.”
After giving him a scrutinizing onceover, Robert nodded. “I’ll throw you in the fight after this one. Go get changed and warmed up.”
There was comfort to be found in the familiarity of this place. This was where he’d rebuilt himself, this was the place that had saved his life because he’d been heading down a bad road before Robert found him.
This was also where he’d first made contact with Griffin and used it as an in to get into Azure.
Tonight, though, he had to banish all thoughts of Azure, of his family and the past, of Ally and the future that was stolen from them.
Too much emotion was never a good thing. If he hadn't been able to harness the same skills his parents used when they were able to walk away from him and leave him to die, he wouldn't be able to work undercover. So he supposed he had to thank them for that.
Guess he was their son after all because he’d walked away from Ally today knowing she was suffering.
He ignored the suffering of all the women who fell victim to Azure because he was focused on the justice of destroying the trafficking ring completely, just like how his family had focused on saving those they thought could be saved, rather than trying to save all of them.
Shame washed over him as he changed into shorts and began taping up his hands.
For two decades, he’d refused to speak to his family, have anything to do with them at all, hated them, and was unable to take even a step toward forgiving them, or even trying to see things from their point of view.
But he was more like them than he wanted to admit.
“Ready for you, kid,” Robert told him, sticking his head into the locker room.
There was no point in reminding the old man he hadn't been a kid in a long time now, so Mateo merely nodded and headed through into the ring. The shouts and leers of the crowd barely registered, nor did the face of his opponent.
Tonight, he didn't care who he was fighting, didn't care about anything except an outlet for the fury raging inside him.
Maybe he needed to experience a little pain himself. A small measure to pay back the horrors he’d heaped on his poor little mouse. She still had hours to go, suffering through intense arousal she couldn’t satisfy, it only seemed right that he spend some of those hours fighting.
That first strike, slamming his fist into his opponent’s face, offered him the relief he needed, the relief his girl wasn't getting. Over and over again he struck, receiving a few blows himself, but delivering far more.
It wasn't enough, though.
Each strike couldn’t erase the fear he’d felt that night two decades ago, couldn’t erase the suffering Ally was enduring right this second.
But it was better than nothing, and he embraced it, letting his conscious mind fade away until all that existed was this.
The dancing movements of boxing, hitting until the pressure inside him no longer felt like it was going to consume him, and he wouldn't explode and ruin everything he’d been working toward.