Chapter 14.
‘Christian’
“Olsen.” The new recruit offers his hand with a charming smile and I have to fight to keep the frown off my face.
“Christian.” I shake his hand professionally, but with a single, firm shake, I can tell it’d take him no amount of effort at all to break my wrist. It’s like he’s made of stone.
Even now, up close, I’m having trouble seeing over his muscled shoulders and his frame towers over me, making me feel like a small child.
What the fuck do they feed you?
I pick up a new crate carrying supplies of canned foods and turn away, dismissing the encounter entirely to continue my job and he follows behind with his hands in his pockets.
It was only a matter of time until our paths crossed… I just didn’t exactly want it to be today.
Reuben was right, I'd pushed myself too hard and now I was back to aching in places I shouldn't be. So I’d obliged him for a few days and stayed inside the house. I even went out with Lucia like he suggested, and we tried to visit Camille... but it failed. She’s still closed in and refuses to come out.
And now it’s looking like I chose the wrong time to go back to work.
“You’re one hardworking guy, I hear,” Olsen follows behind as though he’s observing the site. “Any word out of the team’s mouth is that I should take a page out of your book and learn something from you. Looking at you now though—”
I hand the crate off to another one of the workers and he’s finally wiped the smile from his face to watch me with new disinterest, “It’s insulting. You look like you barely eat.”
And you look like you could consume the world.
I tilt my head as I get a good look at his face. He’s put away all the charm to show his real colours, his eyes are cold and I can see the obvious dislike between his brows.
“Your real feelings look better on you,” I turn away indifferently. “It’s probably why Reuben’s giving you a hard time. He’s good at sifting out fakes.”
Though I guess I’m an exception?
“Reuben can’t deny that I’m the real deal.” Olsen follows behind me at a leisurely pace. “But even when faced with my experience he’s still deluded into thinking you can possibly beat me. Which leads me to my first question.”
I haul another crate into my arms and turn only to hit squarely into Olsen’s chest. There’s a malice in his eyes and an unpleasantness to his smirk that locks our gazes for one very tense heartbeat.
“Does the whole team get down on their knees to suck Reuben’s dick or just you?”
My gaze hardens.
“I saw you guys a few days ago, in the forest before sundown.” He steps forward but I hold my ground.
Even with the crate between us he’s unpleasantly close and he leans over until he’s only a hair’s breadth from my nose.
“Almost this close,” he says softly. “Then it started to make sense. If you get booted from the team, he’ll lose his pretty fuck. ”
Why does everyone keep calling me pretty?
Right, I’m using Christian’s face.
Okay, that checks out, Christian was pretty.
And why does everyone always assume we’re fucking?
“Reuben’s a good judge of character.” My indifferent tone sparks an angry light in his eyes. “If he doesn’t like you, it might just mean you’re a higher grade of asshole.” Gabriel’s on the team just fine after all.
Ah, I forget he’s in my good books now… but if I try hard enough, I think I can convince myself that that little episode in the kitchens was just a dream.
I back up to put space between us, “And aren’t you supposed to wait until I recover before you start trying to piss me off?
Or maybe it’s those veteran instincts. You know you can only talk back while my ribs are broken?
Either way, I can’t say it’s a good look for you. With your… experience and all.”
I move to walk past him but his fist flies out to connect with my ribs on my left side.
Even though I see it coming, I brace myself to take it, and pain shoots through my body like lightning, creating white spots in my vision.
I stagger and fall to my knees, but I’m able to keep the crate off the ground, placing it on the floor lightly even amongst the pain.
“You know, I have to deal with a lot of shit attitudes on this stupid squad,” Olsen’s voice sounds closer to me than it should. He’s crouched down where I’m bent over to speak to me with a stormy expression.
“I’m a decorated soldier. I don’t want to be playing house with disrespectful kids like you. Stop wasting everyone’s time and go back to the dead you left behind.”
The pain is agonizing, like being shot by a cannon at close range instead of a bullet.
‘Kick this guy’s ass and send him home,’ Reuben said.
I think I really need to have a talk with him about the extent of my capabilities.
“I don’t need to,” I practically wheeze. “My dead are always with me.”
Olsen clicks his teeth, “Tell you what? I hear there are two kids running around that you’re really fond of.”
I remain quiet. I expect anger. Fury. But even my thoughts are becoming quieter. Except for the pulse of my blood in my ears, there isn’t a sliver of the emotion I’ve learned over the past 1,355 days.
It’s as though I’ve reverted to the thing I was before becoming Christian.
“I see the girl around a lot,” he continues. “Helping with the chores, cleaning the house. If you leave before sunset, I promise her first time won’t be violent.”
Evie.
I see her face for a moment. Her shy smile and the small container with the pink bow.
“I can be a gentle guy.” The asshole’s still going. “Slow. Mindful. Just imagining how tight she’ll be when I break her in.” He grins but still I remain quiet, focusing on reeling in the pain.
“Even better, if you leave right now, I’ll let you use her after I’m done, when she’s pumped full. You look like the kind of man who would get off on sloppy seconds.”
He stands for a moment to watch me, waiting. But there isn’t a single thing I can offer him.
“Not even that can rile you up, huh?” He puts his hands back in his pockets. “You’re a tough man, driving a hard bargain.” He starts to walk around me slowly, like a vulture. “I’ll throw in the bitch that always comes here to visit you. The one with the skeleton tattoo.”
I close my eyes.
“I’m impressed you’re so active, letting Reuben fuck you then turning around to fuck that doll. You get the best of both worlds by swinging both ways.”
The pain has finally lessened into something bearable and I prop myself up on one knee.
“I don’t mind using her hole until it starts to bleed. If you kiss my shoe, I’ll let you watch.”
I open my eyes to meet his, and the indifference on my face creates a crease between his brows.
“Are you done?” At least I no longer sound like I’m on the brink of death.
“I’m running out of material honestly,” he tilts his head. “Your reactions are all boring.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I rise to my feet, ignoring the way the world tilts. “Lead the way, Mr. Veteran. You want your match, right?”
He grins, “Perfect.”
Word about the match must have spread like wildfire, because Xavier and Tobias are already there.
Xavier’s nervousness is practically dripping off him as he paces, and Tobias twirls his favourite dagger in his hand, absentmindedly.
Xavier runs up to me the moment he spots me, ignoring Olsen completely.
“That bastard hit you?” He looks positively livid, “Before the match?”
Inside voices, please, the bastard’s right next to us.
Tobias also passes Olsen by completely and Olsen snorts before walking away, towards the ring.
Tobias grabs my shirt to raise it up and both he and Xavier go stiff at the giant bruise forming where Olsen hit me.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I lie.
“You don’t have to do this now,” Tobias’ expression is stormy. “It’ll set the match back, but it can still be held after you heal up.”
“Thanks.” I put my hand over his to put my shirt back down. “But I think I can handle him.”
“You’re sure?” Xavier presses.
Not at all. “Relatively.”
“For both our sakes, ‘relatively’ better be good enough,” Tobias releases me with a sigh. “Would hate to shoot him by accident on our next mission.”
“Where’s Gabriel and Reuben?” I ask hesitantly.
“No fucking idea,” Xavier mumbles. “I’ve been calling them both but no success.”
Good news, I suppose. If ‘Christian’ dies here, at least they will have missed it.
Just imagining the embarrassment, I wouldn’t be able to look even Christian in the face in the mirror anymore.
“Whenever you’re done being buttered up, buttercup,” Olsen calls from the ring, smiling easily.
I step towards him, breaking away from Tobias and Xavier, “I want a raise in my stakes.”
His brow rises.
“Doesn’t seem to me like you’re risking much of anything, Mr. Veteran,” I tilt my head from the outside of the ring. “But I risk losing much if you take my place.”
A shadow passes across his face. I know he’s heard about me, even if he hasn’t tried to. The survivor of the Adler Squad. Losing my place in the family will be the same as killing me… as killing ‘Christian’.
“What do you want me to stake?” he asks slowly.
“Your life.”
“I refuse.” He folds his arms. “I’m not staking my life on this shit.”
“Then I’m not getting in the ring with you,” I say simply.
His eyes narrow.
In the end, that’s what you need, isn’t it, Olsen?
“You’re saying I can kill you if you lose?” His gaze is sharp and calculating.
“I’m saying you might as well kill me if you beat me.”
He watches me as though he’s seeing me for the first time.
My next words are deliberately slow, “If you can’t take this seriously, then it just sounds like you want to throw your title around. Humiliating me without actually losing anything or putting anything on the line.”
I mimic his easy smile, “Can’t say it’s a good look for you.”
I know I’ve pressed his buttons.
Because they’re the same buttons that made him hit me.