Chapter 20
She doesn’t wake up when Asher leaves.
Not when the door closes loudly. Not when the silence fills the room. Not when I start to fall apart.
What have I done? I just had to be her knight and go get her stuff. I don’t regret it, but I didn’t think Mickey would retaliate. I really didn’t. But I should’ve realized he’d send his lackey to get his hands dirty while he sits back. Fucking scum of the goddamn earth.
What am I going to do? I’m so angry right now, so scared, so…
overwhelmed, that I don’t know what to do.
I want to be here with her so she knows when she wakes up that she was never alone.
I want to go hunt Mickey down and make him pay.
I want to move us all out of this apartment and make it so no one can find us again.
My phone dings in my pocket breaking me out of a spiral. I sigh, pulling the phone out so I can see who could possibly need me at this moment.
Unknown: I told you not to fuck with me. You’re lucky, I heard Cory took it easy on her.
A second later another message arrives and my fingers curl around the small device tight enough that the plastic creaks under my hand.
Unknown: This is your final warning. Tell her to come home and pay her debt or next time it’ll be you.
Unknown: Unless…you want to make a deal.
I’m about to tell him to go to hell, that I’m going to be the one sending him to meet his maker soon, but then I stop and think.
If she’s always looking over her shoulder then she’s never going to be free.
Ty: What is it going to take to end this?
Not even a minute passes before my phone buzzes.
Unknown: Let’s talk money. All the cash you took, plus interest. Plus an extra grand for every day she’s been with you.
My jaw drops as my grip on the phone tightens. This son of an evil bitch bastard.
Ty: I think that’s a little steep.
Unknown: I don’t think you have a choice. I want the next thousand payment by the end of next month.
Ty: How am I supposed to do that, Frank?
Unknown: Not. My. Problem. Figure it out.
I try my best not to panic, to think through it logically. I can do this, I have to do this.
For her. Gladly, willingly, always, for her.
My eyes trace over Roxie’s face. I try to ignore the bruising, try to imagine her skin clear and unharmed, because I…
I know she fights for cash, but maybe we can both get out of that world…
for good. I don’t want to be fighting, physically or emotionally, every single day just to make ends meet for myself and my family.
I don’t want her to fight to try to stay afloat.
I want us to be happy. To succeed and thrive.
I want our future.
Together.
Safe.
In love.
I know right then that I’ll do whatever it takes. Scrimp and save and sell and go without if it means she’s okay. I also know I’m putting myself in the same situation she was in, never being able to pay him off or get ahead. But…what choice do I have? Better me than her.
Fuck.
I run a hand through my hair and my phone dings again.
Sighing heavily, I open the message and see it’s Mario.
Mario: Brother, we’re running low on funds over here. I have another fight for you lined up for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight, sharp.
Fucking, fuck, fuck! Standing up, I pace the length of the room, doing everything in my power not to punch the drywall or kick my desk. The only thing, the only thing, keeping me from doing that is Roxie. I don’t want to wake her up. Especially not to me getting violent.
Ty: That’s not happening.
The three little dots pop up signaling that Mario was already replying.
I’m… I just can’t deal with Mario, my mom and their need to bleed me dry.
Mario: Mama asked me to tell you we need help and Papa would want you to help.
Oh, fuck them.
Ty: You can tell Mom to… I type and then backspace.
They need money, I need money. Maybe just a few more fights to get us all somewhat more in the black The shop is doing well, we’re not rolling in the dough, but we’re surviving.
My eyes drift to Roxie, her eyes closed, but the bruising is obviously getting darker. She looks so small, so helpless like this, even though I know she’s not.
But she is mine to protect.
Ty: I need you to set up at least four more. Higher weight class, more bets. We’re going to make some money.
I send the text and barely register the excited message back.