Chapter Seven #2
Would’ve never touched her if I’d known.
That kind of thing… leaves a mark. Stains you.
First times cling to the skin, nest under the ribs.
Mine still haunts me. I was seventeen, her curves older than her judgement, my father’s friend.
It was wrong. Felt good at the time, but afterwards?
Emptied me out. She meant nothing. Just someone who saw a bored boy and made him feel grown.
Fuck. This isn’t the same. It shouldn’t be the same.
What the hell am I meant to do now? Call her? Bang on Autumn’s door and force her to look me in the eye? Or pretend none of it happened and let the silence rot me from the inside out?
Rain lashes down harder, the road nothing but a blur of black and water. Speed claws at me, faster, harder, begging for something to break.
Call from Kaden.
The screen flashes. Slowing just enough, I answer.
“Where are you?” he asks, tone lined with tension.
“Five minutes.”
The line goes dead. Her name still echoes in my skull, and I fucking hate that I can’t tear it out.
Pulling into the garage, the floodlights blur in the rain. Security waves me through. Kaden leans against the wall by the elevator, eyes sharp, arms crossed.
Dismounting, I tear off the helmet. Clothes cling to me, rain-soaked and heavy, but I feel none of it.
“What?” The word comes out harsher than intended.
“Declan called,” Kaden says, pushing off the wall. “Told me to make sure you came home.”
From the look in his eyes, I can tell Declan didn’t give details.
A low, bitter chuckle slips out. Not at him. At the mess I’m in. At the fact she told Viviana. Told Declan. Everyone except me. That stings deeper than I want to admit.
We step into the elevator. My fingers punch in the penthouse code, and Kaden doesn’t move. Just watches. Silent. Assessing.
“What’s going on, mate?”
The question lands like a blade. Head shaking, I give him nothing.
Need to get out. Burn this energy before it claws its way out of my skin.
The doors open, and I stride into the penthouse. Straight to the bedroom. Stripping out of the soaked suit, I change into darker clothes, dry, rough, ready for violence.
Behind me, Kaden grabs the SUV keys.
“Fuck or fight?”
His voice is calm, like it’s just another Tuesday.
“Fight,” I answer without hesitation.
Sex is the last thing I want. I’m too full of fury to touch softness.
Tonight, I need blood.
We pull up to Christian Keeffe’s warehouse. No heads-up call this time. Kaden knows better.
Before the engine even cuts, I’m out of the SUV.
“Mister Brady,” Keeffe’s right-hand man nods, standing just inside the warehouse doors.
“Where is he?”
The leather jacket’s already coming off as I speak. He jerks his chin toward the far end, near the ring.
Striding across the cracked concrete, I lock eyes with Christian. He spots me and curses under his breath.
“Fucking hell, Flynn.”
He already knows. Doesn’t need to ask. Rage rolls off me like heat.
“Who?” I ask flatly, controlled.
His eyes flick to Kaden.
“Don’t, Keeffe.” I stop in front of him. “Tell me. Right now.”
He nods toward a tank of a man with a shaved head, thick neck, a black tattoo slashed across his temple like a warning.
“He’s a beast, Brady. I don’t think—”
“Perfect.” The word slices out of me as I strip off the black shirt.
The tattoos draw eyes like magnets. Across my arms. Crawling up my neck. Down my chest and back. Not enough. There’s space left. Space I’ll fill soon.
The announcer clears his throat, mic crackling to life. “Next up, we’ve got a real one for you, lads.”
This place used to be just another Keeffe warehouse. Before they moved everything to the docks. Now? It’s a blood ring. A betting ground for rich fucks and underground scum to gamble on pain. For me, it’s something else.
This is where I go when the leash around my throat gets too tight.
Since Autumn? I’ve been here more than I care to admit. Especially after seeing her for the first time at the Callaghans’ wedding. Something about her presses on every trigger I swore I’d buried. The way she blushes. The way she bites her lip when she’s concentrating.
That’s the most fucked-up part. She’s just existing, and I’m the bastard hard over it. The one who wants to bend her in half, make her scream until her throat’s raw, fuck her until she forgets her name.
“Next, we’ve got The Warrior. Two hundred and eighty pounds of pure rage!” the announcer calls out. Cheers erupt across the ring.
Kaden steps in beside me. “You sure about this?”
My eyes stay on the ring as I nod once.
“And his opponent… Flynn Brady.”
Another wave of cheers, louder now. Bets fly across the floor. The scent of sweat, blood, and money thick in the air.
They’ve seen me fight before. They know I don’t hold back.
“We want a clean fight, gentlemen,” the referee says, trying to sound firm. “Follow the rules, or I’ll stop the match.”
His eyes land on me.
Yeah. He knows who the problem is here.
The bell rings.
No hesitation. I step forward, slow and steady, boots on the bloodstained mat, eyes fixed on the bastard standing across from me.
He’s massive. Broad as a fucking truck. Veins thick down his arms, tattoo twitching with each breath. He’s bouncing on his feet like a dog itching to bite.
Good. I hope he tries.
We circle. The crowd fades. So does Kaden. So does the rain still dripping from my hair. All I see is movement. Weight. Weak points.
The first blow lands hard in my ribs. I let it.
Pain flares, deep and focused. Exactly what I need.
He swings again. A jab to my side. I absorb it. Then another left hook this time. My jaw snaps to the side, and blood blooms inside my cheek. I taste it. Copper and fury.
Still, I don’t hit back. Not yet.
I just watch.
He’s got strength, sure, but he’s impatient. He’s expecting a brawl, not a reckoning. My hands stay low, loose, like I’m not taking him seriously. It rattles him.
Another punch comes wild. I duck. Let it skim past.
I move.
A clean, brutal elbow to his throat drops him half a step. Before he can recover, my knee slams into his gut. He grunts, arms faltering, and that’s when I let go.
Fists blur. One to his temple. One to his mouth. His lip splits open, and blood sprays across my knuckles. He stumbles, but I don’t stop.
My body crashes into his, and we hit the mat. I’m on top, hands wrapped in the collar of his shirt as I slam his head into the ground once, twice, three times.
The crowd roars. The referee shouts something I don’t hear.
He tries to swing, barely. I catch his wrist and twist it until his scream cuts the air.
My fist drives into his face again.
And again.
And again.
This isn’t about the fight anymore. This is about her. The way she lied. The way she moaned in the dark. The fucking blood. The silence. The voicemail she didn’t answer.
It all pours out through my fists.
Skin splits. Blood spatters. His body goes slack, but I don’t stop. Can’t. Not until someone rips me off him.
Arms lock around my chest, yanking me back.
“Flynn!” Kaden cuts through the haze.
I resist. Snarl. Fists still clenched like claws. He shoves me against the ropes, holding me there while I breathe like a wild animal, chest heaving, jaw tight.
“Match is over,” he mutters. “You’ll fucking kill him.”
My eyes stay locked on the man twitching on the floor, face broken, blood pooling.
Good.
That helped.
“Shit, Flynn.” Christian snarls, rushing forward.
Eyes drop to the poor bastard on the floor, blood slick around his face, someone already kneeling beside him.
“Take him to Mac Dara’s. Tell them I sent him,” I order.
One of the men nods and moves quickly.
Fingers brush the stack of cash from the bets. I press it into Keeffe’s hand. “Make sure he gets paid.”
Truth is, I don’t need the money. And he didn’t deserve to be nearly killed.
Mac Dara belongs to the Irish Consortium. Quiet. Untraceable. Most of us don’t use it unless it’s urgent, but our men do. It’s safer. Cleaner. Keeps the blood off hospital floors and the questions buried.
Keeps our secrets locked up tight.
“Well, at least you’ve still got a soul,” Kaden mutters beside me, dripping with irony. “Care to explain what the fuck that was?”
I move past him, jaw tight, blood still hot under the skin.
“She lied to me.”
Kaden stops short.
“Autumn?”
“Yeah.” The word scrapes out low. “Now she’ll face the consequences.”