33
COOPER
“Fight me.”
I blanch. “What?”
“Vengeance . . .” I swallow but don’t suck the word back in. It’s slipped out enough times by now that no one bats an eye. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I am Ezla Zefron; no one can hurt me.”
I would have believed that before I met her.
“And you fight me all the time.”
“Not really, Ezzy,” Tiger pipes up with a rare nervous expression, sticking close to Alby even though he passed out days ago now, so is completely fine. “Not like that . . .”
I still feel like absolute crap for that; I know it was mine and Tate’s fault.
But once again, I’d been controlled by my anger, and while I might not like violence, I know my words can be disgustingly cruel, like a defence mechanism.
I know that was the reason everything got so physical—because I couldn’t control my own pain and stress and anger, and instead I threw it at everyone else, especially Tate.
I think it’s because of the way he’s so sure Ezla will love him, and here I am, an undeniable pessimist, unable to believe she’ll ever even want any of us. I envy him for it.
So I wanted us to both hurt together.
It sickens me that I ever think like that, and I always have to do a lot of convincing to remind myself that I’m not like my brother—that I never will be.
“I cannot have pathetic Bonds. You must be closer to my level. The only way you can do that is by fighting me properly.”
“But you know none of us can beat you!” Tiger whines.
“Fight me. Now.”
“I’ll fight you, baby— Oomph.”
I blink down at Tate, who’s been taken to the hard floor of the private training room in under a second.
I slowly look back up at Ezla as she crosses her arms over her chest languidly, standing there without a twitch to show she’s just taken down a man double her size. “He’s the best of us. How do you expect us to get anywhere if even he can’t?”
Tate jumps to his feet, advancing again with nothing but desire in every inch of his body language. “Goddam, Havoc, that was hot.”
She holds up a gloved hand, halting him in place without turning her head his way. “That is why it will be two on one and three on one,” she answers me.
“I like the sound of that, baby.” Tate winks, and I roll my eyes heavenwards.
“4 and 29, you will go last. So pay attention and learn.”
“Okay.” Alby’s head bobs up and down with eyes the size of tennis balls, his fear palpable.
Tate just pouts.
“35, 38, 17. Get into position.”
Reluctantly, I take up a spot behind her, the brothers spreading out at her front.
Tiger starts, “So when do we—”
He shrieks as Vengeance’s boot flies at his head.
While he dodges, Scotty advances on her, and I shift on my feet uneasily. It feels different to fight her now, even though I didn’t hold back in Game 1. That was life or death, this is . . . this is the woman I’m . . . I . . .
My heart squeezes at the same moment Ezla shouts venomously, “Fight back!” and her fist, baton clenched in it, slams unforgivingly into my chest, then the other into my gut in quick succession, causing me to double over.
It gives HC a perfect angle to land a brutal kick to my helmet afterwards that hurts even through the taalk, making my ears ring.
Then she’s on top of me, pissed but still in control, unlike with Peter. I vaguely note Scotty and Tiger struggling back to their feet, but they pause at the sight of us.
Ezla’s armoury sticks must’ve found their way back to her shoulder blades in the last second because her hands now wrap around my neck. “Fucking coward! FIGHT BACK, I SAID!”
The words are gritted out before I can stop myself: “Don’t make me, Ezla. Don’t make me hurt you—especially not when someone else already is.”
She becomes a statue on top of me.
It was a mistake to say that, I know. Completely invasive, too. And I’m just waiting for her to storm off like always, which would be understandable.
But she doesn’t.
Her voice is so quiet when she leans closer that it’s hard for my ears to pick up on the robotic notes. “No one hurts me.”
I don’t know what’s come over me, but I don’t yield. I only push even harder, as if I have a death wish. I’m sure the other men are currently questioning my sanity. “Don’t they? Then where does all that anger, all that pain come from? The way you snap, just like that—”
Her hands start to squeeze, and I let out a wheezing sound.
“I will kill you.” The statement is completely unfeeling. I’ve pushed too much, and instead of inciting her anger like I’d wanted to, needing to see the truth in her, it’s only made her strengthen her walls, put that emotionless, composed mask back on.
“Then do it.”
“Cooper, what are you doing?” Scotty hisses, stepping closer. Then he looks to Vengeance. “Lo— Ezla, we know you can. You’re not afraid. No one can hurt you.”
I work my jaw, glaring at him as he lies. But I know he’s saving my life right now. Because I’m not so sure HC won’t kill me, even if I thought she might have warmed to us marginally.
“You mean nothing to me.” My Bonded’s voice is blank. Nothing there at all. “Do you understand? You are nothing. All of you.”
Sharp breaths are sucked in around the training room.
“You all do as you are told. You do not try to get close to me, or understand me. There is nothing to see. Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes.” The word is chorused by all of us in a mixture of hurt and anger, and I avoid looking at the other men, especially when I hear broken whimpers from Alby and Tiger.
Because I know they all know this is my fault. I can never control my damn temper.
It’s always my fault.