Chapter 21
No Signs
Kane
The tension in my body is past the point of reason. My jaw is locked so tight it aches, and every muscle feels like it’s primed to snap. Only one thing is going to take the edge off.
Violence.
I look at Cam as he lounges on a barstool, his usual smirk firmly in place.
“Ready to lose?”
He lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You know damn well I'm going to kick your ass.”
I smirk, rolling my shoulders. “We’ll see about that.”
But even a fight won’t be enough to put out the fire burning through me. Raven’s unraveling me, piece by fucking piece. Every part of my life, every calculated move, every carefully constructed plan, I’ve built on control. Always knowing the next step before anyone else does.
But with her, it’s a goddamn freefall.
I can’t predict what she’s going to do, what sharp-witted response she’s going to throw out, or what reckless thing she’ll do just to prove a point. She’s chaos, and I want to burn in it.
If she hadn’t been rushing off to that damn meeting, I might have kept her in the car and laid everything out. But she slipped through my fingers again, leaving me holding back the truth once again.
I know I can’t keep ignoring it.
Cam’s already halfway down the hall, calling over his shoulder. “Let me get changed. Be right down.”
The short walk gives me just enough time to wrestle with the part of me that’s still back in that storm with her.
I’d kill to be a fly on the wall during that meeting of hers, watching her annihilate whatever fool had the audacity to overstep. She has no patience for men who don’t listen, that much is clear. And Meathead Mike is about to learn that the hard way.
If I had more than just a nickname to go off, I’d already have his entire history laid out in front of me. I know she doesn’t need me to watch out for her. She’s made that abundantly clear. But that doesn’t mean I won’t.
I inhale, shoving the thought down before it can go any further. It's not my problem. I have bigger things to worry about.
Cam finally comes down the stairs, stretching his arms over his head like he’s on a goddamn vacation. He takes one look at me and smirks. “You look like shit. You sure you don’t want to just talk it out?”
I don’t bother responding. Instead, I step into the ring making the message loud and clear. Talking isn’t an option.
He laughs, shaking his head as he climbs in after me. Before he’s even fully upright, I slam a right hook into his face. He stumbles back with wide eyes, stunned for half a second before swiping at the blood trickling from his lip, then grins.
“Well, all right then. Guess we’re skipping foreplay.” He squares up, rolling his shoulders. “Holy shit, you got it bad, man.”
He’s not wrong, and that only pisses me off more.
“If you dodged half as much as you talked, maybe you wouldn’t get hit as much.” I snap, circling him, fists clenched and ready to burn off every last ounce of this frustration.
He barely dodges the next swing, and just like that, we fall into a rhythm.
The first hit comes fast. A sharp jab to my ribs, but I don’t react, even though I can feel the sting. He knows where to aim, when to push, and when to shut the fuck up. Usually. And right now, he’s pushing me.
I counter hard, swinging for his head, but he ducks, landing an uppercut that rattles my jaw. Fuck, that hurt.
We keep going, back and forth. The sound of fists meeting skin and the dull thud of impact fills the space. It’s fast and brutal, and I can feel every muscle straining under the weight of the fight.
He’s watching me. Waiting. And I know exactly what he’s waiting for.
He dodges my next swing, then exhales sharply. “I have some information I think you’ll find interesting.
I pause, a second too long, but it’s all the opening he needs. His fist slams into my ribs, and pain explodes through my side. My vision flashes before I shake it off.
“Go on.”
Cam rolls his shoulders, staying light on his feet. “Security caught something near the east wing. Someone tried slipping past the outer gate. They were trying to get out, but they didn’t get far. We still don’t know how they got in.”
I throw a jab that he easily blocks, but the tension crawling up my spine has nothing to do with the fight.
“Who is it?”
“That’s the thing.” He shifts his stance, watching my reaction. “No ID, no clear motive. Just someone testing the boundary is my guess.” He throws a jab, but misses. “Could be tied to our new client. Could be something else.”
I grind my teeth, dodging another sharp left hook before landing a brutal hit to his ribs that I know he'll feel in the morning.
“What else?”
He bounces around me avoiding another hit. “Not much else to tell. Security handled it before anything happened, but the timing’s suspicious, don’t you think?”
I don’t reply because he already knows the answer.
It’s been years since I’ve had a real incident, let alone someone actually breaking in, slashing my tires, and then trying to slip away unnoticed. There had to be a point to all of that.
Coincidence? Not a fucking chance. Clearly I've been distracted.
My fists fly faster with every hit, muscles and instinct drive me forward while my mind battles to hold the reins. Clarity and control. The two things that are slipping through my hands like water.
Cam staggers back, breathing hard, wiping sweat from his brows. “As much fun as I’m having kicking your ass,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m starting to think we should be using, you know… words.”
My chest is heaving. He has a point, but it doesn’t mean I give a damn. “You might be right.” I admit with a smirk. Then I throw another punch.
He barely moves in time, cursing under his breath. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Glad you’re finally catching on.”
Right now, this is the only thing stopping me from hunting down every lead until I know who the hell is poking around my house.
“Besides,” I taunt, sidestepping a jab. “You’re just mad you’re not winning.”
He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he goes for an uppercut that I dodge. Which is exactly what he wanted. Fuck.
His fist connects with my ribs. Again.
The blow lands hard, driving the air right from my lungs. The pain is immediate. That's for sure going to bruise, but I've taken worse.
“Care to talk yet?”
He doesn't let up. Hit after hit, he keeps driving me back. Relentless bastard. It only drags the monster closer to the surface.
“I’m fine,” I grit out, stepping back to shake off the sting of his last hit.
Cam circles me, keeping his eyes sharp. “Fine, huh? Then tell me what the fuck is going on.” He lowers his voice, but it carries more weight than any blow he's landed. “You’ve been all over the damn place since she showed up. You’re getting sloppy.”
The words land where his fists couldn't and it does nothing but piss me off. I throw a punch, aiming to shut him up, just to remind him whose game he's playing. He unfortunately deflects, proving his point.
“That’s what I thought. Get it together.”
I’m dodging his hits the best I can, but for everyone I avoid, he lands two more. My arms feel heavy, my breath comes in bursts, and he’s not letting up. I swing wide and miss completely, cursing under my breath.
“Alright, alright,” I bark out, holding up a hand.
For a second, I think he’s going to take another swing. Instead, he straightens, raising a slow thumbs-up with a smug grin.
I chuckle, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You’re lucky I’m tired.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, old man.” His grin widens and he stretches his neck like he’s ready to go another round.
I drop onto the bench, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I need to breathe. To think.
“I assume we still have him?”
“Aye.” He nods, stretching his arms before leaning back against the ropes. “He’s in the basement. Security ran their tests, but nothing matches. He won’t talk and hasn't asked for anything.”
His brows pinch together. “You think he’s connected to our new client?”
I shake my head, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “I don’t know yet.”
I don’t believe in coincidences. The timing is too clean. No, there’s got to be something more going on here. I don’t like being in the dark.
I push off the bench, reaching for a towel. “Guess I’ll have to make an appearance and do your job for you. Just make sure he stays put until I get there.”
The time in the ring took the edge off, but not nearly enough. My body is exhausted, but my mind is still wired, caught between thoughts of everything I have to do. My priority right now is the dumb ass in my basement who thought he could sneak around, and Raven.
Me: How's your meeting going?
A moment later, her response flashes across the screen.
Your Royal Highness: I’m not there yet, but I'm NOT looking forward to it at all.
I can picture her tapping her fingers, glaring at the clock, already over it before it's even started. Poor Meathead doesn't stand a chance.
Me: How come?
Your Royal Highness: Just a feeling I get from him.
Me: Spidey senses just not vibin’ with Meathead Mike?
I wait for her response, but alarm bells are already ringing. I don’t like this. She obviously trusts her instincts, and if something feels off to her, then it probably is.
Your Royal Highness: No, they’re not.
I’m sure he’s fine.
Me: Cancel then. Tell him today’s meeting isn’t happening.
There’s a longer pause this time, and I know she’s weighing her options, probably chewing on her lip the way she does when she’s deep in thought.
Your Royal Highness: If only it was that easy.
Irritation settles under my skin. Why the fuck not? If she’s uncomfortable enough to even mention it to me, that’s already a problem.
I type out a response, then delete it. She’ll shut me out if she thinks I’m overstepping.
Me: Well, just say the word, and I'll come get you. I have no issue telling Meathead Mike where he can go.
The three little dots appear, then disappear. A moment later, her reply pops up.
Your Royal Highness: Hahaha, you’re out of control.