Chapter 28
Anita
––––––––
L ocation: GenCre Boxing Gym
Operation: Wicked Mal is a pain in my ass.
Two days later
Wicked jabs the heavy punching bag, right hooking and uppercutting it like it's an actual person. I sit on the bench, wishing I can do something besides wallow in my own injuries or sit around Ronan’s empty home watching TV that I haven't watched in years. I went from being someone who's always on the move, to on bed rest on account of bruised ribs.
The boredom was so painful; I was almost tempted to read one of the books on Ronan’s shelf in his bedroom. When Wicked knocked on the apartment door, relief swarmed my bruised body so intensely that I could've hugged her. Though, I would never admit that to her.
Since Ronan left off to handle his agreement with Jax, he had her stay back to, yes—babysit me. I snarl at Wicked, who delivers as many quick punches as she can. How come she gets to move around like nothing happened to her?
I kick my feet out, crossing my ankles. “You lucky bitch. You get stabbed, yet you can move and jolly around like a cat, and me, I’m damn near immobile.”
“It's because I’m basically a cat, ninety-nine lives and all.” She jabs the hanging bag, glaring at it.
“It's nine lives,” I drawl, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.
“Don’t be like that, Cinderella. You’ll get to move around in no time. I’m sure Ronan would love that.” She grins at me with a wink, then uppercuts the bag again.
My heart skips several beats with a yearning bubbling in my stomach. Ronan. There's nothing like hearing his name, and my body takes flight like I’ve jumped into a pool of pretty pink roses. She’s right. Ronan would like that, and so would I. Very much. After that beautiful ceremony, aka Victor's death. Ronan’s clean-up crew put out the blaze, and Victor’s body was so deteriorated that you couldn't tell he was a human being. They dug a ditch right there and tossed his remains into the ground. I’m sure they can put some flowers there as a reminder of our celebration. Whoever said you wouldn't find satisfaction from your revenge is a damn liar. I felt fucking euphoric.
Afterward, Ronan escorted me back upstairs at a snail's pace. It didn't bother me anymore because I was enjoying his hands on me, catering to my wellbeing. I was so high from what he’s done for me I was practically gawking at him like my knight and dark armor. It didn't stop there; once back at his home, he took me to his room, stripped me of my smoke-filled clothes, and laid me down on my stomach on his bed. I didn't even think to tell him to take me to my room. I let him lead me where he wants me to be.
He used the healing cream that Dr. Rio gave me and massaged the bruises covering my back, watching me the whole time with that possessive gaze. I was wrapped completely in his vortex until he shared with me disappointing news.
“What do you think about our little discovery?” Mal huffs, swinging her sweaty arms to her side.
I bite down on my teeth and release an exasperated sigh. I hate that after everything, Victor wasn't the end to it all.
“I don’t know.” There are so many questions spinning around in my head. Ronan informed me Victor wasn’t the one to coerce the kidnapping, but someone else hired him to do it—or they potentially work together? From what Ronan explained to me, Victor laughed and said, ‘When he finds out, he's going to wish I had killed you.’ What does that mean?
It's all confusing, which makes me anxious and frustrated that I have no clue who we are dealing with. Who is this person? Is it a man or woman? Do I know them?
What if it is someone I know?
Perhaps it's just an idiot who likes to fuck with people's livelihood.
Mal jabs again, then kicks the bag with her good leg. “One way or another, we’ll find that asshole and everyone else involved in this shit. We’re going to shut them down for good.”
I thought this was for good; this was supposed to be my time to be free for once and complete the task my father set out for me. As fucked up as it sounds, I wanted to put the past behind and start fresh. Victor's death was supposed to be that.
Now everything has changed, I've tapped into an underground organization that makes a difference in the world, that helps people. It was a feeling that I have never experienced, freeing those kids, getting them to safety. I did something meaningful, something that mattered.
Can you be the new women's self-combat teacher?
“You’re quiet.” She stops hitting the bag and looks at me, unwrapping the bands on her hands. “Speak or for—”
“Forever hold your peace,” I chime with her as a heavy breath flows out too. “It's nothing.”
“Not, nothing.” She flops beside me, still undoing the wrist wraps. “You can talk to me, you know.”
A shiver hits my nerves, and I look at her to see her motive there, but she gazes back with sincerity in her eyes. You would never know she would look...not so wicked.
I flick my thumbs over one another, considering her offer. I don’t share my feelings, especially expressing them openly. Spilling your feelings means building connection— building connections means forming bonds and friendships. Which could lead to trouble if you become too attached and you leave, or they die. But holding in that fear, keeping that rule close to me, left me...alone. Ronan proved that even in the world of our chaos, you can still have family, blood or not.
“When I came to GenCre, I was not expecting to be.” I wave my hands around the room.
“Apart of a new family,” she finishes.
Family.
I purse my lips. “A group.” Although she is right. I didn't expect any of this, and it only furthers my confusion about what I should, or need , to do. “My plan was to come, then leave.”
Wicked tosses the band onto the bench beside her. “And now things have changed because you realize how banger this place is.”
I straighten my back, side eyeing her. “Precisely.”
“So, what's the deal?” Wicked stands and gestures her arm out for me to clasp it. I have the urge to slap it away, but I do need her so I can walk to Dr. Rio. My ribs are healing, but a nagging pain still shoots to my side whenever I try to walk upright. Standing, she takes my arm lightly, and I loop my arm into hers. She’s cold from the sweat coating her skin.
“The deal is, I don’t know where my place is here.” I finally admit. Saying it out loud doesn't feel so bad, either.
“Your place?”
“My role. What will I do?”
How will it affect Ronan, and I’s...situation? I’m not sure what we are. I tried my best to keep it at a distance, but it snapped like a twig, and we fell into each other, kissing, fucking and all. I leave that bit to myself.
“Sometimes it’s okay to not think,” she says as she leads me out of the gym. The cool air brushes over my face, and I realize how damp it was in there.
My brows draw in, confused. “What?”
“If you keep thinking about all the ‘what ifs’ and all the calculating moves that you make up in your head, it will prevent you from moving forward. Then, you’ll never experience the actual risk. Shit, you’re so scared that you can’t decide whether you want to leave or stay.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I snap.
Wicked laughs at my reaction. “Only someone who’s afraid would say that.”
I blink, her words drowning into my mind like I’m being thrust into the ocean. Am I doing this because I’m afraid? Does it all revolve around that one thing? Fear.
I stay quiet, pondering on her blunt advice. We pass by other mercenaries, some of them steering clear so they don't run into us, other students stroll idly with textbooks or gear in their hands. We end up at the south hall, and I catch the sign that says Combat Class. My heart skips and I tap Wicked’s hand without thinking and peer in the square window, giving me a preview of the session. I’ll take a guess and assume that’s Senores Vander, the teacher who is leaving for paternity leave. I watch as he shows them the Kimura Lock jiu-jitsu technique. I notice Isabella immediately, acting as the fighter, and she struggles to put the opponent in the shoulder joint lock.
Can you teach the women's self-defense combat class?
Wicked looks into the window too, wrapping her sweaty hair into a neater ponytail. “Either take the risk and jump. Or you can continue to settle for the life you had. It's up to you to see whether you found it fulfilling.”
I chew on the side of my mouth and glance down at the floor, then back at the class. When has my life ever been fulfilling?
When you came here.
I shake off all the little feelings wanting to crawl over and attack my heart. I loop my arm in hers again. “You know, in Cinderella, the evil sisters were still mean to her. You’re not playing your part very well.” I side eye her as she guides me down the hall.
She shrugs. “Maybe. But I think we are past that.”
I look over at the woman who hated my guts months ago and wanted me dead as much as I wanted Ronan gone—now she’s someone I would kill for.
Wicked hums, clasping my arm as if to shove me. “If you'd like, I can push you down and say, ‘you disgusting twit’ is that better?”
So evil. I know she won’t do it, but I smirk at her and nod my approval. “That’s more like it.”