Chapter 29
Hayden
“Lips Of An Angel- Hinder”
After leaving the gala…
My mind was spiraling like crazy so I came to the Dungeon in hopes that Braxton was here and ready for his fight tonight, but from the looks of it, he’s getting his ass handed to him inside the cage.
I know he’s got a lot going on. His girl, Presley, had some shit happen to her and now their youngest brother, Axel, is locked up at Hillsboro Institute.
So I get it. But if he wants to keep winning, he needs to fucking focus.
“Braxton, get your head out of your ass! Fucking focus!” I yell as his opponent sends a jab right into his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Jesus. He stumbles back against the cage, shaking his head, then ducks and dances around the guy.
The guy keeps gunning for him, but he whirls out of the way and jabs him in the ribs, sending him to smash against the metal cage, then lays punch after punch as the guy falls to his knees, only for Brax to use his own and catch him right in the jaw.
Blood sprays across the mat and the crowd goes wild.
One last hit to the side of the guy's head, then boom lights out, and I ring the bell.
The crowd cheers again as Braxton walks over to me.
I grab a bottle of water from the cooler and hand it to him.
He takes it and pops the top, chugging the cold contents down.
“What is with you tonight?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes.
“A lot.” That’s all he gives me, so I punch his arm and he looks at me with a raised brow.
“Start talking because the idiot in that ring was twenty miles from here and won the fight by the skin of his teeth. So what the fuck is going on?” I ask again, and he sits on the stool, dumping the rest of the water over his head.
“You know the Radleys right?” he asks. Of course I do. I fucking hate all of the founding families. Rich pieces of shit.
“What did they do now?” I ask, sitting down on the bench next to him.
“To make a long story short. They have my girl. They won’t let us near her, and I’m at my wits end.
Her phone has been disconnected, and I can’t seem to get her alone.
But fucking Mav and Casp have both been with her recently.
I’m livid about it,” he spits, and I laugh.
“This isn’t funny, Hayden. You of all people know what it feels like to have the person you love ripped away,” he snaps, and my smile instantly wipes away.
“The difference is Ophelia’s dad is the judge and he put me away for years for something I didn’t do just to keep me away from her. The Radleys hold power, but not like that. Stop being a bitch and go get your girl. What’s the worst that could happen?” I say, and he shakes his head.
“You don’t understand. The things they do to her.
I just don’t want to put her in more jeopardy then she’s already in, but fuck, man.
I just want to hug her. To tell her to never stop fighting, that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere!
” he spits, and I nudge his shoulder. I know the feeling all too well.
“Then go fucking do it. She’s at her house right?” I ask, and he nods. “Then sneak into her room. Fuck it! That’s what I used to do with Ophelia. Her house is heavily guarded and I still made it through the idiots and spent plenty of nights without getting caught,” I tell him, and he laughs.
“Until you did.” He nudges me back, and I laugh.
“Not like that, that’s a story for another night.
Go get cleaned up and go to her! Fuck them motherfuckers,” I encourage, slapping him on the back.
Then I get up and walk away because sitting there with him telling him what to do when I should really practice what I preach is unbearable.
Because I want nothing more than to go get my girl too.
When I leave the Dungeon, I climb on my bike and head to Hillcreek Bay. I need to see her.
The security gate appears too slowly. I barely kill the engine before Larry steps out of the booth, already looking nervous.
“Hayden,” he says quietly, and I freeze.
“You know who I am?”
Larry gives me a sad smile. “You’ve been sneaking in for years. You think I didn’t notice? Plus, that girl spent three years crying over you, son. Hard not to know.”
The words hit me square in the chest.
“Where is she?” I ask immediately, and he frowns.
“She just got back with Mr. Augustine a little bit ago,” he says as ice floods my veins.
“Okay, good.”
“Mr. Fitzgerald also just left so the coast is clear,” he says, glancing back towards the neighborhood.
“Makes my job a little easier.” I chuckle, and he smiles.
“Well, I didn’t see you and I know nothing,” he states as the gates open for me.
“Thanks, Larry. Have a good night, sir,” I say as I start my bike back up and nod to the old man before taking off into the night. I park my bike in the cul-de-sac where it won’t be spotted, then take off my helmet and pull my hood over my head.
The second I climb through her window, I know something’s wrong. Firefly isn’t waiting for me. No sarcastic comment. No teasing smile. No arms wrapping around my neck the second my boots hit the floor.
Just silence.
Heavy and wrong.
My chest tightens instantly while moonlight spills across her bedroom. She sits at the edge of her bed, still in her emerald dress, crying. Something inside me snaps.
“Firefly?” But she shakes her head quickly, refusing to look at me.
“Go home Hayden.”
Absolutely fucking not.
I cross the room in seconds, kneeling in front of the bed while panic and rage claw violently through my chest.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Lie.
I reach for her anyway, but she flinches. Flinches—at me.
That alone nearly blacks my vision out. “‘Look at me,” I growl.
“No.” Her voice cracks. “Please just leave it alone tonight.”
I grab her chin gently but firmly, forcing her face upward despite the resistance.
And then I see it. The bruise blooming across her cheek and the finger marks around her throat.
For a second, I can’t breathe. The room goes dead silent around me except for blood roaring violently in my ears.
“Who!”
Not a question. A fucking promise.
Her eyes immediately fill harder. “Hayden…”
“WHO!” The rage in my voice even scares her a little. I see it instantly.
“Brayden got angry after the gala.”
That's it.
I stand so fast the chair beside the vanity crashes onto the floor. Pure murderous rage detonates through me hard enough my hands shake.
I’m going to kill him. Not to threaten. Not to scare. Fucking KILL.
I head straight for the window, already seeing red.
Already imagining Brayden Augustine choking on his own blood while I cave his fucking face in.
But she grabs my wrist hard enough to stop me.
“Don’t,” she pleads, and I whip around.
“He put his hands on you,” I growl. “Do you expect me not to react to another man touching you?” I say, and her eyes cast down.
She knows.
She knows there is no stopping this.
“Please. Hayden,” she begs.
“That motherfucker touched your throat. He is the reason for your tears. No. I’m going to fucking kill him,” I growl, because all I can picture is her gasping for air while some rich entitled prick thinks he owns her body.
MINE.
Every brutal instinct inside me screams it.
MINE.
“I’m killing him tonight,” I say slowly.
“And then what?” she whispers. “You go back to prison? You disappear from me again?”
The words hit like a fucking brick to the face.
“You think I care?” I snap.
“I care!” she screams suddenly. “I just got you back!” she cries out. “I just got you back. I won’t survive if you leave again, Hayden,” she says, slamming her fists against my chest.
Silence crashes heavily between us afterward. My chest heaves while rage tears through me so hard I can hardly stand still.
“Please stay,” she whispers softly, and I shake my head.
“I can’t look at you right now without wanting to murder someone.”
“Look at me anyway.”
God. Her voice sounds broken.
She reaches for the back of her dress, pulling down the zipper. Then it falls over her tits and down her body, pooling at her feet.
My pulse stutters. Not because I’m horny.
Because she trusts me with her softness even after tonight.
Bruised and hurting.
She still reaches for me first.
“Firefly…”
Tears slide down her cheeks while she steps closer, pressing my hands against her waist. “Please,” she whispers. “I need you more than I need revenge tonight,” she says, and her words nearly fucking ruin me.
I stare down at her bruised skin while my chest caves in completely, because she’s standing here, naked and trembling, asking me to stay… while another man put those marks on her just an hour ago.
My rage shifts instantly after that.
Not gone.
Never gone.
But redirected.
Possessive. Protective. Needy in the ugliest way.
I grip her hips hard enough to make her gasp softly before crushing my mouth against her.
The kiss turns desperate.
Not sweet. Not gentle.
We kiss like two people trying to forget the rest of the world exists.
Ophelia climbs into my arms while I carry her toward the bed unable to stop touching her. Her mouth tastes like tears, heartbreak, and home.
Always home.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her throat.
“I know.”
The answer almost breaks me because she says it so easily. Like she’s accepted it down to her bones.
I lay her on the bed, caging her in as I shove my face in the crook of her neck. Her hands reach between us and fumbles with my jeans.
“Let me just hold you. No sex. Just–” I trail off because I’m so afraid if I sink inside her with all the rage I’m desperately trying to hold in, I may hurt her and I don’t ever want to do that. Especially after what he did to her.
She whimpers but leaves my jeans and curls her fingers into my hair.
“You expect me to have you in my bed and not want you?” she asks, and I chuckle.
“Baby, trust me.” I snap my hips. “I know you feel it. But right now, I need to make sure MY girl is okay,” I whisper against her throat.
I roll us onto our sides as her hands snake under my hoodie, needing to touch my heated skin.
“He’s getting worse,” she whispers quietly.
I know. I felt it tonight looking at those bruises.
The escalation. The ownership. The beginning of something far uglier.
My jaw clenches hard. “You should come with me.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere,” I say, and she sighs against my chest.
“It’s not that easy,” she says.
I know it isn’t. That’s the problem.
We stay quiet for a long moment before I finally press a kiss against her forehead.
“I love you,” I whisper, and her arms tighten around me immediately.
“I love you too.”
Pain slices through my chest afterward because, suddenly, I understand something terrifyingly clear.
We’re running out of time.
This thing between us is becoming too explosive. Too impossible to hide.
And eventually, somebody’s gonna force our hand. Maybe Brayden—her father… or maybe even me.
I really am one violent night away from putting somebody in the ground permanently.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and she lifts her head.
“For what?” she asks as my thumb brushes softly over the bruise on her cheek.
“For the fact that we need to do something soon,” I admit. “Before I end up back in jail.”
Fear flashes across her face, because she knows I mean it.
I absolutely fucking mean it.
Then, just as I start reaching for my jeans, my phone rings.
Mom…
“Holy shit. When was the last time you spoke to her? I thought she was dead,” Ophelia says, and I chuckle.
“It’s been awhile,” I tell her, because my mother never calls this early unless something’s wrong.