Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Ryker
Finding Danny takes less than two hours.
Amazing what a couple hundred bucks can buy you in information when you know which palms to grease.
I leave Amanda sleeping in my bed, safe behind three deadbolts and a security system.
She doesn't know I'm gone. Doesn't know what I'm about to do.
Better that way. The beast inside me needs release, needs to eliminate the threat to what's mine.
Professional fighting taught me control, how to harness the violence that's always lived in my blood.
But this—hunting the man who terrorized my woman for years—this is pure predator.
No referee. No rules. Just me and the piece of shit who dared to put fear in those doe eyes I've come to worship.
The bar is exactly the kind of place you'd expect to find scum like him.
Dimly lit, sticky floors, the smell of stale beer and desperation.
The type of establishment where the bartender looks the other way when deals go down in dark corners.
I spot him immediately—hunched over a beer at the end of the bar, phone in hand.
Probably sending more threats to Amanda.
My hands clench into fists at the thought.
I take my time approaching, let him feel me coming. The predatory instinct is strong—why rush when your prey is cornered? He's average height, wiry build. Nothing special. Nothing threatening to a man my size. Hard to believe this insignificant piece of shit has terrorized my sweet girl for years.
His head turns as I get closer, animal instinct sensing danger. His eyes widen slightly when he recognizes me from the bar, then narrow with false bravado.
"Well, look who it is. The hired muscle." His voice is slurred slightly. Liquid courage. "What, she send you to fight her battles?"
I say nothing, just slide onto the stool beside him. Close enough to strike, but not so close he bolts. Not yet.
"She's quite a tease, isn't she?" he continues when I don't respond. "All innocent eyes and 'no, Danny, stop,' but she wants it. Always has."
My jaw clenches so tight I hear my teeth creak, but I maintain control. For now.
"You know," he leans closer, alcohol making him stupid, "I got further than she probably told you. That kiss? Fucking hot. Had my tongue halfway down her throat before she ran off."
The red haze descends so fast I barely register moving. One moment I'm sitting beside him, the next my hand is around his throat, lifting him off the stool. People scatter, but no one intervenes. This kind of place, you mind your own business if you want to leave with all your teeth.
"I'll rip your fucking throat out." I growl, my voice barely human.
Fear flashes in his eyes—genuine now, the alcohol buzz evaporating in the face of imminent death. I drag him toward the back door, one hand still crushing his windpipe. The bouncer takes one look at my face and steps aside. Smart man.
In the alley behind the bar, I slam him against the brick wall. His head cracks against it with a satisfying thud.
"You've been terrorizing her for three years," I snarl, inches from his face. "That ends tonight."
"Fuck you," he gasps, still defiant despite the terror in his eyes. "She's mine. Always has been."
Something snaps inside me. The control I've honed over years in the ring disintegrates.
My fist connects with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone vibrating up my arm.
Then his ribs. His stomach. I'm methodical in my destruction, using every technique I've learned to cause maximum pain without killing him. Yet.
"You forced your filthy lips on her?" I growl between blows. "Stalked her? Made her afraid to live her life?"
He's slumped against the wall now, blood streaming from his nose, one eye already swelling shut.
"She's mine now," I tell him, gripping his hair to force him to look at me. "And if you ever—EVER—contact her again, look at her, even think about her, I will end you. Slowly. Painfully. They'll find pieces of you scattered across three counties."
I slam his head back against the wall once more for emphasis. "Nod if you understand me."
He nods frantically, blood and saliva dripping from his split lips.
"Good." I release him and he crumples to the ground, whimpering.
"One more thing." I crouch beside him, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"I know where you live. Where you work. I know your patterns.
I'll be watching. And if you go to the cops, if you try to retaliate—I'll find you. And next time, I won't stop."
I stand, looking down at the broken man at my feet. Pathetic. This is what she feared for years? This cowering, bleeding heap of nothing?
"Forget she exists," I tell him as I walk away. "Or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
The drive back to my place is a blur. Adrenaline still courses through my system, my knuckles raw and bloody. But beneath the violence, there's satisfaction. The threat is neutralized. My woman is safe.
My woman.
She's awake when I get home, sitting on the couch in one of my t-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh on her small frame. Her eyes widen when she sees my hands.
"Ryker! What happened?" She rushes to me, gently taking my bloody knuckles in her small hands.
"I found Danny," I say simply. No point lying.
She goes still, her eyes locked on my damaged hands. "You...what did you do?"
"What I had to." I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. "He won't bother you again. Ever."
"Did you...?" She can't finish the question.
"No. But he knows what will happen if he comes near you again." I search her face for fear, for disgust at what I've done. Find none. "He told me about the kiss."
Her breath catches, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh God..."
"Said he had his tongue down your throat." The words taste like poison. "I nearly killed him for that alone."
She surprises me then. Instead of pulling away, instead of being horrified by my violence, she presses closer, her hands gripping my shirt.
"He lied," she says fiercely. "It was nothing like that. He smashed his closed mouth against mine for maybe three seconds before I shoved him away. That was it. I swear, Ryker. I'm yours alone—virgin until you. Even my mouth."
The possessive beast inside me roars in satisfaction. Mine. Untouched until me. My hands move to her waist, gripping hard.
"Say that again," I demand, voice dropping to a growl.
"I'm yours alone," she repeats, eyes locked on mine. "Virgin until you. No one else has ever touched me the way you do. No one else ever will."
Something primal and unstoppable surges through me. I lift her, carrying her to the bedroom in four long strides. Set her on the edge of the bed, then go to my dresser. Pull out a length of soft rope—left over from more innocent workout days.
Her eyes widen when she sees it, but there's no fear. Only heat.
"Arms up," I command. When she complies without hesitation, I bind her wrists together, then secure them to the headboard. Not tight enough to hurt—never to hurt—but enough that she's at my mercy.
"Mine," I growl, tearing the t-shirt down the middle, exposing her naked body to my gaze. "Every. Fucking. Inch."
I strip quickly, cock already painfully hard. Settle between her spread thighs, staring down at this angel who trusts me despite the blood still drying on my knuckles. The violence that lives in my soul.
"Going to erase every memory," I promise darkly. "Every second of fear. Replace it all with me."
I push into her without preamble, her body wet and ready despite the roughness of my approach. She gasps, back arching off the bed, bound arms straining against the rope.
"Feel that?" I growl, grinding deep. "This pussy belongs to me. No one else gets to touch it. No one else gets to see you like this."
"Only you," she gasps, meeting my thrusts. "Only ever you, Ryker."
I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, watching where our bodies join. The sight of my cock disappearing into her tight heat drives me wild.
"Gonna breed you so deep," I snarl, pace punishing now. "Fill you with my babies. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to."
Her eyes roll back, inner walls clenching around me. "Yes," she moans. "Please, Daddy. Make me yours."
The word snaps what little restraint I have left. I fuck her like a man possessed, one hand gripping her hip, the other wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, just asserting dominance.
"Say my name," I command. "Who's inside you right now? Who owns this body?"
"Ryker," she sobs, tears of pleasure streaming down her face. "You own me. All of me."
I release her throat, reaching between us to circle her clit. "And who am I to you, princess?"
"My Daddy," she whimpers, trembling on the edge. "My protector. My everything."
"That's right," I praise, feeling my own release building. "Come for me, little girl. Come on Daddy's cock while I breed you raw."
She shatters with a scream, her entire body convulsing beneath me. The sight of her completely surrendered, bound and trusting, pushes me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and roar as I empty inside her, claiming her from within.
Afterward, I untie her wrists gently, massaging circulation back into them. She curls against my chest, utterly spent, completely trusting. My bloody knuckles leave faint traces on her pale skin as I stroke her back.
"Are you okay?" I ask, suddenly worried I've been too rough, too primal.
She looks up at me, eyes soft and sated. "I've never been better."
I press a kiss to her forehead, overcome with a tenderness I never knew I was capable of feeling. "He's gone," I promise. "From your life. From your mind. There's only me now."
"Only you," she agrees, snuggling closer. "Forever."
And as I hold her close, I silently vow that nothing—and no one—will ever hurt her again. Not as long as I'm breathing.