Destroyed

9

Hazel

I’d always prided myself on being strong, on not taking life’s nonsense lying down, but that changed when I was told Clara only had a few months left to live.

The illusion of power over one’s destiny was a lie. The biggest lie of all.

Her immune system was her enemy and for that I hated life with an ever burning passion. I lost faith in humanity, in fairness, in myself.

I let my weakness put me in a situation where a man took brutal advantage of me.

But in his violence, he made me remember.

He reminded me of my past, my temper, my courage.

He gave me back my backbone and I would never let it go again.

I would teach him why I’d christened myself Hunter.

The hunt had begun to make him pay.

“Zelly, is that you?” Clue popped her head from her bedroom, black hair tussled from sleep.

I quietly locked the front door behind me, sighing. “Yes, I’m back.”

I hadn’t expected Oscar—the opinionated idiot who worked with Fox—to bring me home. When he spotted me sneaking through the semi-empty fighting floor just before sundown, I worried he’d throw me over his shoulder and take me back to Fox.

Instead he’d smiled and apologised for being a dick the night before and offered to take me wherever I wanted. We didn’t say much on the way back, and we fell into a companionable silence that smoothed over the animosity between us.

The drive from the Eastern Suburbs to Inner Suburbs took longer than I wanted with traffic, and the lack of sleep caught up to me. All I wanted to do was curl up in a familiar bed and forget.

About everything.

Clue glanced at the door opposite hers and made sure it was shut tightly against inquisitive ears of my daughter.

Shuffling forward in her pink unicorn slippers and matching huge t-shirt, she looked about fourteen years old. “I thought you said you’d be gone for a while?” She slapped a hand over her mouth as a yawn caught her unaware. “What happened?”

The apartment smelled of oregano and basil from whatever Clue had cooked for dinner. The second-hand couch was covered in a daisy-print fabric, and our mix-match coffee table was an entirely different world compared to the sleek black violence of Fox’s mansion.

This place resonated rainbows thanks to Clara’s bright artwork blue-tacked to the walls and an odd assortment of knick-knacks. Fox’s place was morbid in the use of nothing but midnight. No wonder he seemed so lost and alone. He lived in the never ending dark.

My hands closed around Clue’s dress, hating that my mind kept skipping back to him. I toyed with the idea of never going back, but he deserved a piece of his own medicine and I still wanted the money he’d promised.

Every time I moved the bruises in my core throbbed, reminding me I’d been so stupid to think he’d be gentle. I let lust cloud my judgement.

Last night had been a mistake. I let him sweep me away by playing with my needs. Tonight he would have no effect on me as it was purely business from here on out. I would shut down my desire and forget about anything but scratching off the days on a calendar. Counting down the hours before I never had to see him again.

“What are you wearing?” Clue came forward, eyeing the stolen black trousers and t-shirt. I’d raided Fox’s wardrobe. I didn’t want to travel home looking like a hooker or doing the walk of shame. Not that they fit me very well—the trousers were too loose and the t-shirt too long.

Clue crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “So…are you going to tell me what happened? Explain why I had to tell Clara her mum wouldn’t be home?”

My heart squeezed at the thought of how that conversation must’ve gone.

“Change of plans.” I hid my stress with a smile and moved forward to join her in the centre of the small lounge. Her skinny arms came around me, squeezing me tight. I kissed her cheek, wrapping myself tight against her. This little Asian woman had been an island of refuge for me just as much as I’d been for her. The thought of her leaving if things worked out with Corkscrew hurt me deep. I wasn’t ready to let her go. I wasn’t ready for our little trio to change.

It’ll change when Clara dies. The inevitable doom sucker-punched me.

After a moment, she pulled back. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.”

I looked toward the door where Clara and I shared a room. We both had single beds, pushed against opposite walls. When we first moved in, even though it was against the landlord’s rules, I’d asked what paint she’d like to decorate with.

Probably a bad idea as I now lived in a purple and pink room with horses stencilled on the walls.

“I know the feeling.” My arms ached to cuddle her and apologise for last night. Throwing Clue’s dress on the arm of a dining room chair, I muttered, “I’ve only been gone twenty-four hours, but it feels like an eternity.”

Clue rubbed my arm. “I must admit, I missed you. Why did you go and talk to him, Zelly? What did he promise to make you stay?”

Promises.

Every promise Fox made he broke.

“Baby?” a masculine voice grumbled from the doorframe of Clue’s room. Ben stood dressed in a pair of blue boxer shorts with polished onyx skin and tight black curls.

I shot Clue a glare. “He’s staying here?”

Clue moved to Ben’s side, fitting into him like the matching puzzle piece. “I wanted to ask you. Ben’s between homes at the moment and needed a place to crash for the week.” Her eyes grew round, pleading with me not to get angry. “I figured with you gone…I didn’t want to be alone. I love Clara like my own, but if something happened—”

Something like rushing her to the hospital or another episode. My heart sank. I’d let them both down.

I held up a hand. “It’s okay. Really.”

Ben gave me a sweet smile. Vague swelling puffed up one cheek, but the deep ebony of his skin meant I couldn’t see any bruises from his fight at Obsidian.

Obsidian.

My heart rate picked up thinking about Fox. He seemed inhuman. He needed help.

All day, I’d flipped between never wanting to see him again, to wanting to torture him as much as he’d tortured me.

A plan formed loosely in my head, mainly thanks to Oscar. I’d asked him what dobycha meant, and he shrugged but tossed me his phone. Thanks to Google translate I found out what had Fox called me.

Prey!

The scalding heat of anger kept me company all the way home. The nerve of him. The egotistical nerve.

Prey. Me! Fox thought I was weak and malleable. He thought he could play with me like a cocky killer who had no mortal enemies.

Well, he’d made an enemy in me. And I had claws.

At least I could thank him for one thing. The Hazel I thought I’d lost—the woman who always won—was back, and I was ready to fight.

Fight for my daughter. Fight for myself. Just fucking fight.

Clue’s eyes fell to my throat, frowning at the extra chain resting on top of the silver star. “Where did you get that?” She disengaged from Ben. Her hand came out to poke and prod. Plucking Fox’s t-shirt from my frame, she asked, “What happened, Zel? You seem… withdrawn.” Cocking her head, she said, “No, that’s not right. You seem pissed off.”

Ben came closer, smiling crookedly. “Uh oh, I know that look.” Holding up his finger, he said, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” He chuckled. “What did that bastard do?” His tone stayed jovial and upbeat, but his face fell when I didn’t reply.

My nostrils flared as a slight twinge between my legs reminded me exactly what that bastard did.

Fox’s snowy eyes popped into my head, full of arrogance, but also a strange contradiction of helplessness.

Clue sucked in a gasp. “Oh, my God, did he hurt you?” She grabbed my hand. “What did he do?”

The fear of being hurt by a man ran deep for both of us. The difference was I bottled mine deep, forcing it to brew with all the other bad memories I’d rather not think about.

Clue, on the other hand, slipped back into the broken creature I’d saved the night I found her. She would never know what happened between Fox and me. I didn’t need her fearing for my sanity or running over there with the police.

Quickly shaking my head, I muttered, “He didn’t do anything to me that I won’t pay him back for.” Stroking her cheek, I smiled. “I came to see Clara, but I’m going back tomorrow. We have a new agreement. One that allows me to spend days with him and nights here.”

So help him if he doesn’t agree to my terms. I’d make him wish he never set eyes on me.

Clue opened her mouth, but Ben draped an arm around her shoulders. “Your friend has a plan. Let’s hear about it in the morning, baby doll. I have to be at the job site in a few hours.”

My body went from lithe and strong to utter fear lockdown. Fox asked me last night what my trigger was.

My trigger was so stupid it was inconsequential. A pet name shouldn’t have the power to hurtle me from safety to hell.

But it did.

Baby doll sent me to a pit of darkness I could never remove from my soul. Clara had been the result of my one and only—until last night—sexual intercourse. But there were many means of inappropriate touching. So many other ways to break a nine-year-old’s spirit.

Baby doll.

It’d been crooned with false love and accompanied with rancid fingers and breath.

I’d learned to run when a man softened his voice and murmured those words.

I’d learned to kill when they trapped me, so I couldn’t flee.

Black clouds swamped my mind, but rather than curling into a ball like I used to, now I just shoved the clouds back. Back into the recesses of my compartmentalized brain where locks and chains kept my bad history archived and secure.

Clue stood frozen to the spot. She didn’t know much about my past, but she knew my issues with those two words. She’d seen me explode and almost shank a man in a bar for groping me and whispering, “Can I buy you a drink, baby doll,” in my ear.

Ben stood there, looking between us. “Did I say something wrong?” His large, black eyes held genuine remorse.

My spine unlocked and I slouched. Flashing a reassuring smile, I murmured, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. But please, call Clue anything you want, but avoid that one pet name. I’d really appreciate it.”

He swallowed, frowning. “Um, sure. Consider it done.”

Walking past Clue, I grabbed her hand and squeezed before disappearing into the shadowed world of my bedroom and shutting the door.

I woke to sticky hands gathering my hair to plait it. I smiled, heart winging as I opened my eyes.

The epitome of a gorgeous girl sat on the edge of my bed. Her long, chocolate hair stood up in clumps with frizz from her pillow. Her apple cheeks were flushed from happiness. Everything about her screamed healthy and strong—but it was all a lie.

“I thought you weren’t going to be here for a little while. Aunty Clue said you had to help someone.” Her eyes sparkled as she tugged a lock of my hair, twisting it into a braid.

I scooted upright before grabbing her with tight arms and flipping her onto her back. She squealed in my ear, giggling as I tickled her.

“Stop! Mummy, stop it.” Her laughter was rhapsody to my ears.

But then she coughed.

Scrambling upright, I hoisted her into a sitting position as her face turned purple scarily fast. Her dark eyes bugged as her throat closed.

No. No. No.

Shoving her aside, I dashed across the small space of our bedroom and grabbed the emergency high dose inhaler. I’d told her that it was a special formula the doctors gave us for her asthma. In reality, it had some sort of trial drug only available to those who met a certain criteria. Unfortunately, we’d only been able to meet that criteria once. Thanks to me cleaning out my bank account and handing over every scrimped penny and saved dollar I’d earned.

If it wasn’t for Clue paying my share of the rent until I could find another job, I would’ve had to file for bankruptcy.

Holding the back of her head, I placed the inhaler in her mouth and Clara let me press the depressor. She sucked in hungrily.

Slowly the medicine worked its magic and a rosy colour replaced the blue-purple ringing her lips. Giving me a wobbly smile, she hiccupped once. “Sorry.”

My stomach flipped, hating her apology—wishing I could give her a solution.

Fighting my trembling limbs and calling fate every dirty cuss word I could think of, I said, “I must remember that you hate tickling so much. You’ll go to any extreme to avoid it.”

She giggled once, her lungs rattling as the attack faded, leaving her short of breath. “Yep. You really should know by now. Your tickling sucks.”

I plastered an annoyed look on my face. “Well, I’ll just have to find another way to torture you.”

Her eyes flared wide, then we laughed, bowing our heads together. My heart ripped out of my chest and lay thudding, bloody and dying in my daughter’s hands. She literally held my every happiness in her failing body.

How am I going to survive without you? How will I find the courage to tell you you’re leaving me?

Fox popped into my head, shoving back the weakness and sorrow. His eyes, filled with his own demons, helped give me the strength to stay together. Just the thought of granting retribution for what he did gave me the fire I needed to nurse my strength to keep fighting.

“I wish I didn’t have to go to school today,” Clara moaned, snuggling into me and making my heart skip a beat. I rested my chin on her head and rocked, inhaling her fruity shampoo and soft, innocent smell. “You like school. Didn’t you tell me Mrs. Anderson allows you to pretty much pick what you want to work on?” Like me, Clara had the uncanny ability of photographic memory.

She seemed to be inattentive in class, but she absorbed everything. It was both a blessing and a curse as it meant I couldn’t get away with anything. She sensed lies as easily as I did, but she had a knack at reading further. Almost as if her eyes saw past the restraints of a body and saw right into a person’s soul.

No matter what I tried to keep from her, she knew. She always knew.

“She’s super nice. I like her. We’re designing a sculpture of Romeo and Juliet today.”

I ignored the sculpture comment as it reminded me too much of Fox and his crazy collections all around his home. I frowned. “Isn’t a tragic love story a bit too heavy for a class of eight-year-olds?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re mature, mummy. I know about death and stuff.”

I froze, but she didn’t notice. Her body bounced up and down, wriggling out of my grip. “I’m going to use a dead rose that I found on the sidewalk and dip it in glue to make it hard and then I’m going to paint it black and red and then…” she reeled off her project in intimate detail, charging around the room. Shedding her pink My Little Pony pyjamas, she diligently dressed in the drab greys and greens of her school uniform.

I couldn’t do anything but sit and stare at the whirlwind of life that was my daughter.

It wasn’t until I stood at the school gate, watching Clara disappear amongst a sea of matching uniforms, that the sharp pang of loss made me double over.

Rushing away from the school grounds, I hid in a bush as I balled my hands and shoved them in my mouth.

I screamed and screamed until my lungs ached, and the helplessness was expunged.

My body racked with silent sobs, purging the mourning already blackening my soul.

Only once I could breathe without wanting to murder someone did I step from my prison of brambles and plan my next step.

Clara would be occupied for the next seven hours. Clue had agreed to collect her after school. That meant I had a full twelve hours to return to Fox and show him exactly what I thought of his broken, secretive, non-touching ridiculousness.

It was time to make him pay.

“You again.” The bouncer with the face between a bulldog and a shark eyed me up and down. “Where’s sugar tits?”

Fox’s mansion loomed above me. The gargoyles and block work somehow looked more menacing in sunlight than it did in the dark. It spoke of abandonment, of misplacement. No other house in the family affluent suburb looked so disturbing.

A chill darted down my back.

Why exactly did you come back?

Fox’s silver eyes entered my mind again, tugging me against my will, bringing me back to finish what we started.

My hands clenched, but I forced myself to smile sweetly. My skinny jeans, suede boots, and grey shirt were a polar opposite of the monstrosity I showed up in last night. At least all my extremities were covered and not on show to gawk at.

“She isn’t coming. Just me.” When he didn’t open the door wide enough to let me pass, I snapped, “Let me in.”

He shook his head, slouching against the frame. “Nuh uh. Club doesn’t open for another eight hours. Unless you’re a VIP who has access to the facilities prior to opening, you’re shit outta luck. Come back when the moon rises if you want to get laid by a champion.” He thrust his hips like an ignoramus. “Unless you want a freebie here and now?”

I rolled my eyes. “I would rather stab myself in the eye.”

He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering as if I’d shot him. “Cruel bitch. You sure know how to wound a guy.”

Standing as straight as possible, I demanded, “Call Obsidian Fox. He’ll let me in. I guarantee it.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I flinched as the silver chain around my stomach pinched my flesh.

I’d honoured Fox’s command to keep it on. I’d been tempted to find a pair of pliers and tear the jewellery off, but if my plan worked, I needed it. It was yet another weapon in my arsenal. My temper being my first artillery. My tongue was ready to give that man a lashing.

He needed to know just what I thought of him. And how I would not put up with his bullshit.

He’d promised me two hundred thousand dollars. I wanted my daughter to survive, and he was my only hope.

The bouncer scowled. “He’s not to be disturbed.” He pointed to the sky with a chubby finger. “The bossman sleeps like the nocturnal. No sluts till club hours.”

It took every inch of my self-control not to pull the small blade free from my hair and stab him in his jugular. “Just call him, will you?”

He crossed his muscular arms, shaking his head. “Nope.”

There was only one thing left to do. Pulling my large handbag around to my front, I rummaged inside, pushing aside an extra set of underwear and spare blouse. Pulling out the black t-shirt I’d stolen from Fox’s wardrobe, I found the embroidered silver emblem and shoved the whole thing in the bouncer’s face. “What’s this?”

His forehead furrowed, squinting at the fox stitched into the shirt. “Hey, that’s—”

“Your boss’s clothing? Yep.” I dropped my arm. “I took it from him last night after we made an agreement. I’m staying with him for a month. He let me run a few errands this morning, and now I need to return to him.” The lie spilled effortlessly from my tongue.

The bouncer scowled, gnawing on his lip in deliberation. “I dunno…”

Shoving the t-shirt back into my bag, I snapped, “What do you think he’ll do if I tell him I had to wait on the doorstep for eight hours because his lunatic bouncer didn’t get the memo?”

His eyes widened, dilating with anxiety. It seemed everyone had a fear about their capricious boss. Finally, he shoved the door wider and motioned me in. “If you’re telling lies, I’ll make sure to pay you back.”

His tone didn’t scare me—Fox had reminded me that fear wasn’t in my repertoire.

Storming down the long corridor, I ignored the artwork and statues. For a house painted all in black with black upholstery and haberdashery, the sun had a strong-willed determination to warm every crevice. The glass ceiling above meant it was as bright inside as it was out.

Making sure to only touch the metal door with the child in wonderland and not the child with dead body parts at his feet, I entered Obsidian’s fighting floor.

I slammed to a stop. I’d expected the arena to be abandoned—to have the place to myself, but the boxing ring was occupied by four men, pairing up to spar. The cage held a man in a spandex body suit practicing jabs and throws at an imagery opponent.

A cleaning crew worked industriously around the fighters, disinfecting floors and wiping down rigging. Even medics stood attentive and waiting at their stations, watching the preliminary warm-ups, no doubt ready to receive a patient.

Keeping my bag tucked close to my side, I bee-lined for the black carpeted stairs. Even though members were early, it didn’t mean the boss would be ready to work. The large clock on the wall said it was only midday. I knew where I would find him.

In bed.

Vulnerable.

Hopefully asleep, so I could have the pleasure of screaming him awake.

Walking straight and with purpose, I refused to make eye contact with anyone. I cursed the bruising between my legs. Every step made my heart race, knowing I was about to face the man who hurt me.

I passed the Muay Thai ring, but slammed to a halt when a large man stepped purposely in my way. I didn’t know what he wanted, and I wasn’t in the mood.

“Move, please,” I said, glaring.

He chuckled, stroking his five o’ clock shadow. His body flexed with thick muscles and tribal tattoos. “That’s no way to be polite.” His voice sounded like a drum full of gravel. “I didn’t know entertainment arrived early.” He stepped closer, forcing himself into my bubble. “You fancy serving a winner after his fight?” He licked his lips, dragging icy blue eyes up and down my figure. “I’ll fuck you real good.”

“No thanks.” I sniffed, keeping calm. “I’m busy; please let me pass.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you used the magic word. Was that please let me suck your dick, baby doll? I think that’s what I heard.” His arm came forward, landing on my shoulder. His touch didn’t scare me, but the use of the pet name did.

My body tensed, looking for a weakness to exploit. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”

His bushy eyebrows slammed into a frown. “That’s no way for a Fox Girl to talk to a paying client. Do you know the fucking fees I pay to come here? It’s extortion.”

I shrugged. “What you do with your money is your business. Now leave me the hell alone.”

Shaking his head, he muttered, “You’re not getting it, baby doll. I pay fees and included in those fees are the use of certain pleasurable activities.” His fingers slithered off my shoulder, dropping to my chest.

I flinched as he grabbed my breast hard and twisted. “Get in a private room. Now.”

Reaching automatically into my hair, I fumbled for my knife clip. My anxious fingers touched the blade, palming it discreetly.

A rush of power filled me holding the weapon. “Lay another finger on me and I’ll make you regret it.”

Two fighters nearby stopped towelling off and looked up. They murmured something to each other, watching our altercation. Their eyes dropped to my figure, glowing from confusion to interest.

Oh, shit, how could I get out of this without it turning into a bloodbath?

Deciding deception was the best way to go, I forced my body to relax. Placing a hand over my captors, I slipped into seductress and whispered, “Not here. You want me? You can have me, but your eyes only.” The moment I get you alone, I’m cutting your balls off.

He grinned, showing yellowing teeth. “Knew you’d come around, baby doll.”

A strong arm suddenly wrapped around my waist, yanking me backward into hard muscle. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

My nose swam with scents of sun and salt and wind. Whereas Fox smelled of the underworld he’d been birthed from, Oscar smelled of freedom.

“I came back as I made a deal with your boss.” Nodding at the guy in my way, I added, “This lunatic thinks he can order me around.”

Oscar breathed hard; his muscles pressed against my spine. I never relaxed even as his hard heat seeped into my body. I didn’t like how firmly he held me.

I squirmed a little, testing his hold. Oscar grunted. “Stop moving. I know Fox wants you. I didn’t deal with his bullshit last night for him to kill me today if he found out I didn’t return you. It’s your funeral for being stupid enough to come back.”

Where did Fox go last night?

My mind raced as Oscar clutched me harder. “Spiderweb, nice to see you so early. You know the rules. You want a fuck; you have to wait till official opening hours.”

Spiderweb bared his teeth. “I see a perfect little bug in front of me. She was all for it, weren’t you, baby doll?”

I couldn’t stop the shudder. I would never get over my hatred for that name.

Oscar stilled, a gust of hot air from his breath hit my neck. “She’s not for sale.”

My back stiffened, but I let him talk about me as a possession. He was trying to protect me after all.

“Whatever. Fair’s fair. She’s on the floor. I saw her. I want her.”

Oscar tugged me harder into him, staking a possessive claim with his hand on my hip. I couldn’t see him, but his voice seethed with authority. “She’s already bought.”

My temper flared. I wanted to disagree. I wasn’t a pet or a piece of crockery to be bought and traded. I’d agreed to sell something to Fox in return for hope. What we’d agreed to wasn’t just sex.

You want him as much as you want his money.

The reminder came from nowhere, bringing with it the heat simmering in my stomach. I’d wanted him before he took me so callously. The attraction was still there, frothing beneath my anger.

Spiderweb crossed his arms; his muscles jumped, making his spider tattoos seem like they were alive. “By who? I’ll pay extra. I want that fine piece of ass.” He blew me a disgusting kiss.

I bit my tongue against saying anything. Oscar’s muscles bunched behind me, rippling with energy. “By the owner of this fucking club. So beat it.”

Spiderweb sneered. “The owner can have anyone he wants.” Anger glowed in his eyes. “I want that one.” Pointing at me, he grabbed his crotch. “She’d feel real good. I can tell.”

I squeaked as Oscar grabbed my left breast. What the hell?

His breath blew hot on the side of my neck as he snapped, “See this?” Letting go, he added, “His. Not yours. His.”

His voice held an accent—American perhaps, even though he looked like a true-blue Aussie with his tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and salt-bleached hair.

Whispering in my ear, he said, “Why did you come back? I thought he hurt you?”

“He did hurt me.” I wanted to leave it at that, but I needed Oscar on my side if I had any chance of achieving what I wanted. “But he’s hurting more.”

Oscar didn’t say a word. Shit, I said the wrong thing. I was incorrect to think he cared about his boss.

Oscar muttered, “If you think he’ll change, you’re delusional, but I won’t stop you from destroying yourself.”

Spiderweb took a hasty step toward me. “Hey! Stop sweet talking my girl. I’m taking her.”

My temper exploded. I’d had enough of idiotic male testosterone. Shoving Oscar off me, I hissed, “I’m not yours. I’m not his. I’m mine. Now excuse me, Neanderthals, I came back for a reason, and I’m not done.”

Stalking away, I dashed up the stairs and thanked my one bit of luck: Fox’s office door stood open. Securing the knife clip into my hair, I entered.

I’d drawn my fair share of blood and hated the aftermath. The tremors, the constant questions, the wondering if I could’ve handled the situation better. I second-guessed every decision, looking for ways I could’ve prevented whatever happened.

The shakes began. They always did after a tense situation. My body, drenched in adrenaline, still wanted to fight.

My eyes fell to the carpet where Fox strangled me last night. My fingers flew to my neck, pressing lightly on the tender bruises. The memory of his hand around my throat made my heart pound harder.

He’d switched so quickly from worshipping kisser to crazed psychopath. There was no helping someone with such deep-rooted psychological issues. I should just turn around and forget about all of this.

Even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t an option.

Clutching my bag closer, I took a few deep breaths, forcing the build-up of stress to filter away. Only once my fingers were steadier and I could move without jumping did I traverse the office and open the parallel door.

Looking left and right, I held my breath. The length of the corridor held no one—empty as a gravesite.

Once again, the sensation that my life was changing occurred. I’d felt it when I first locked eyes with Fox—the pull, the gravity between us. It tugged me in a direction I hadn’t known existed until him.

Fate had brought us together because we could help each other. I didn’t believe in fairy-tales, but I did believe in serendipitous encounters. Fox could help me with Clara. I could help him with his demons.

After I hurt him.

My mind swam with Clara. The crushing weight of missing her kept me glued to the carpet. I would never forgive myself if I failed her.

Swallowing hard, I tiptoed toward Fox’s bedroom. Pressing copious amounts of codes on the keypad, I finally figured out the right one. Turned out I hadn’t memorized it very well.

The lock clicked open, and the door handle turned easily in my hand. The moment I entered the room, there was no turning back. I would tell the truth. I would force him to listen. And I had no clue how he would react.

What are you doing, Zel?

I honestly couldn’t answer that question. I truly didn’t know. The risk of coming back to a man as unstable as Fox was suicidal. It wasn’t just the allure of money that brought me back. Yes, my heart never stopped bleeding at the thought of losing Clara, but something else drove me, too. Something, I didn’t like. Something, I couldn’t ignore.

Pushing the door open, I strode in, eyes zeroing in on the bed.

Empty.

My heart raced as I moved forward. The black decorated room was vacant. Sun danced on bronze and iron, glittering off statues of wolves and faceless boys. All around me I felt the threat of pain held tight in the metal sculptures.

A shield hung on the wall to my left, glinting with symbols and careful etching. The markings summoned me, whispering of a story—maybe a key to Fox.

Every chisel line looked angry, too deep, too filled with violence. Three Russian words caught my attention, scratched with no finesse, looking angry and sinister.

Letting my bag fall off my shoulder with a soft thud, I reached with inquisitive fingers to trace the foreign letters. I wished I understood what they meant.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up; my heart galloped. There’d been no sound, no hint that anything dangerous had entered the room, but my senses knew.

I stepped back from the metal shield, looking toward the bathroom door.

Wide open, with a cloud of steam billowing behind him, Fox stood glaring at me.

My stomach twisted drinking in his tight posture, the dampness of his hair. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. His gaze was so intense it pummelled me from across the room. So many questions, so many accusations lived in his snowy depths.

I thought I’d never see you again.

Our deal is broken.

Leave.

Run.

I don’t want you here.

I tried to communicate just as silently, showing him just how pissed off I was, but that I understood, too.

You hurt me, but I came back.

You owe me for what you did.

I hate you, but I want to help you.

The silent conversation ended with Fox standing taller, drawing my eyes down his fully clothed body. His messy dark-bronze hair dripped moisture onto his shoulders, but his toned body was encased in a black sweater and black cotton trousers.

He dressed even thinking he was alone—why? I could understand physical shyness—even though he had no reason to be shy with his physique, but I couldn’t understand the need to hide whatever existed beneath his clothing.

I spoke before I consciously made the decision to communicate. “What happened to you?”

His jaw was swollen, and one eye had a large cut beneath it, all puffed and purple. Blood crusted his hairline and he kept an arm tight against his side, protecting either his organs or ribs.

I balled my hands, fighting the urge to nurse him as he shuffled from the doorway toward the bed. He never took his eyes off me.

The energy in the room sparked and fizzled with awareness. I’d never been so in-tune with someone before—regardless if I lusted for them or hated them.

I bit my lip as he hissed in discomfort, lowering himself from standing to sitting on the bed. Despite his obvious pain, there was something different about him.

Gone was the fine edge of…I didn’t know… power, hatred, poise maybe? He lacked the tense fierceness, the tightly reined control. Before, he looked like he could reap Armageddon, now he looked…relaxed. He looked tired.

The man before me was… content. A strange conclusion for someone bleeding and breathing shallowly, but his white-grey eyes weren’t haunted. They were clear and focused and angry.

My heart fluttered, drawn to the damaged, magnetised to the need in him. Seeing him vulnerable wilted away my anger.

Carefully, he swung his legs onto the bed and reclined against the black fluffy pillows. His eyes trailed over my body, taking their time, branding me.

The bruising in my core turned from aching to throbbing.

You came here to scream at him. Don’t fall into the trap of attraction.

Sucking in a determined breath, I stomped to the end of the bed and clutched the gnarly tree bed-end. The cold metal gave me something to focus on. I glowered. “You hurt me last night. I came back to tell you exactly what I thought of you—to inflict some pain in retribution, but I see karma works fast and someone beat me to it.”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t reply.

Fine, if that was how he wanted to play. “Want me to guess how you came to be bruised and beaten? You want to know the truth about me…well, I want to know the truth about you. If I had more sense I would never have come back, but lucky for you I care about someone more than myself, and I’m doing this for them. I’m earning the money for their future.”

“Well that just makes you fucking selfless then, doesn’t it?” Fox snarled. “I don’t want to hear about your reservations and regrets returning to me. If you feel that strongly just piss off.”

I rolled my eyes, my temper heating. “You think I would willingly come back for abuse? Don’t kid yourself. You practically raped me, and I should feel what exactly? I’ll tell you what I feel: lust for the money you promised. I made a mistake thinking I could enjoy my time with you. I wasn’t mentally prepared for you taking me because I’d hoped I would find satisfaction, but you taught me yet another lesson, and I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Fanning my arms, I snapped, “I’m here. I’m here for your enjoyment, and I don’t expect anything in return but your cash. I guess I truly am a whore.”

His eyes flashed. “You’re not a fucking whore. And I get it—you want to hurt me by saying you no longer want me in any capacity but to pay you. Congratulations, I understand completely.”

“Good.”

“Fine!” His face twisted, bruising and redness on his cheek highlighting his scar. “At least this way we know exactly where we stand.”

I nodded. “Precisely.”

Fox’s eyes lost the flash of anger filling suddenly with tiredness. “Anything else you wish to scream at me before I pass out?” He looked defeated—smaller and vulnerable.

My heart thumped, diluting my anger with compassion. Running my finger along the top of the bed-end, I asked, “What happened to you? Where did you go last night?”

He scowled, shaking his head. “I went nowhere and nothing happened.” He winced a little as he shifted on the bed. “Oscar told me he dropped you off last night, but he refused to tell me your address.”

Relief siphoned through my blood. There was no way I wanted Fox knowing where I lived—not while Clara was there. “And he beat you up for asking?”

Fox laughed, holding his side. “As if.” His eyes narrowed. “I got someone else.”

My mouth plopped open. “You asked for that to happen to you?”

His lips twisted, refusing to answer. His eyes fell to the necklace he’d put on me last night. The silver disappeared down my cleavage, tickling my stomach whenever I breathed.

I sucked in a small breath as his eyes flashed to smouldering. Ignoring the burn in my belly, I pointed at the split in his lip. “Did you go searching for pain?”

His eyes flared and he winced. “Shut up.”

My heart thudded knowing I was on the right track. “I’m not going to shut up until I know the truth.” Pacing at the bottom of the bed, I added, “You’re bleeding. If you didn’t ask for this, then what happened? Did someone mug you?”

He sighed heavily. “Something like that.” His gaze latched onto mine. “You’re forgetting our deal. You agreed to answer my questions, not the other way around.” He flinched as a wave of pain went through his body. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You left. Our deal is void. Get out. I don’t want you here.”

I scowled. “I left because you hurt me. You promised me you wouldn’t. It wasn’t me who broke the rules—it was you.”

He snarled. “I got what I wanted. I fucked you, and I didn’t have to pay. You’re the one who walked out the door and left—you’re the one who decided I wasn’t worth two hundred thousand dollars to stick it out for a few weeks.” His hands balled on either side of his body. “Don’t you get it? I got what I wanted. I fucked you and now I’m over it, so do me a favour and leave. I don’t want you here.” He clipped every word, layering them with hostility.

My pissed off mood deflated. I should’ve been offended, annoyed, or jilted, but instead I just felt sad. Sad for him. Sad for his lies.

The more I looked, the more I saw, and the more my heart went out for him. He was like a rabid dog, snarling, frothing at the mouth, guaranteed to bite my hand off if I got too close, but in his feral eyes lurked a plea. Something that said: don’t give up on me even if I bite.

Narrowing my eyes, I snapped, “You’re rude, but it won’t work.”

“What won’t fucking work?”

I moved from my place at the foot of the bed, inching closer to him. He stiffened, glaring at my every step. I stopped at the side of the bed just out of touching distance. His body never unwound. If anything, his muscles bunched harder.

“You’re pushing me away because you’re a coward. You don’t want me to leave as I’m the only one strong enough to put up with your bullshit.”

His face went stark white. Eyes flashed with livid rage. “What did you just say to me?”

“You’re a coward. You hide behind violence. You dish it out. You invoke it to happen to you, but really, you’re lost and alone and you’re drowning.” My mind collided with so many things I wanted to say. “Something’s destroying you inside. You’re looking for a way out but you can’t find it. That’s why you surround yourself with fighters. It’s a world you know. The only world you can breathe in.”

His teeth ground together; his body vibrated. “Get. Out. Get out!”

Ignoring him, I rushed on. “I think you bribed me to stay, because I’m the only one you have ever felt any connection with. I think chemistry and attraction is completely new to you and instead of asking me out on a date, you stole my knife and kidnapped me. I don’t know what’s going on in that brain of yours, but I’m beginning to understand.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, his muscles shuddering with anger. “You think you know me? You think you can wave a fucking magic wand and fix me?” He moved to get off the bed, and I backed away. His feet touched the floor, but he didn’t stand up, almost as if he forced himself to stay seated, to stay away from me. “It was a mistake to fuck you. It was a mistake to let you anywhere near me. You’re crazy with your stupid conclusions. I’m not a pet project for a girl scout to fix. Get the fuck out and stop boring me.”

“I’m boring you? Oh, my God, you’re completely backwards. If you were bored you wouldn’t care what I thought. You’re not bored, Fox, because you know I’m right. What do you want from me? What were you hoping to achieve?”

From my place in the centre of the carpet, I balled my hands. “Did you think you’d win my affection by raping me? Or how about making me swoon with your fucked-up inability to be touched? I wanted you—I’ve been honest about that right from the start—but what I don’t want is a man who’s so far off the realm of sanity that I can’t understand or predict. If you gave me the money right now, I’d leave, and I would never think about you again.”

My throat closed on the lie.

Fox clutched the edge of the mattress. “Don’t let me keep you, dobycha. Congratulations on fucking hurting me more than the injuries I’m suffering. You just proved how shallow you are. You never truly wanted me—if you did, you’d want more than just what my bank balance can give you!”

My entire body hummed with anger. “I’m the shallow one? How about you? You think you’re one-dimensional; you provide a scarred scary persona who owns an illegal fight club, but that’s not the truth. Want to hear my version of the truth and then you can see if I’m shallow enough not to care?”

I didn’t wait for his reply. “You can’t be touched. I would never be able to guess why that is but it left me wondering—why did you buy me for sex if you never undress and seem to abhor the very idea of being near anyone? You wear clothes as if they’ll protect you from something. You sculpt and work with metal because you have control over the destiny of the piece that you’re creating. You’re screwed up and confused and—”

“Shut up! Get the fuck out.” I leaped back as Fox stood upright. He roared, “Stop it. Just leave me alone!”

My ears rang from his fierceness; my heart bruised my ribs it thudded so hard, but for the first time, I sensed a crack. He wasn’t Mr. Obsidian in that moment, he was just a man with a primal temper. A man on the verge of losing it.

“No. You’re going to hear me.” I’m going to break you.

His teeth ground loudly sending shivers scattering over my back. Swallowing hard, I demanded, “Had you kissed anyone before? Before me?”

He glared daggers, piercing my skin with his hatred. “What does it matter? Have you ever been so badly abused every bone was broken in your body? Have you ever gone days without food or had so much blood on your hands you wanted to kill yourself?” His chest heaved under his sweater.

We froze.

His nostrils flared. He didn’t mean to slip—he’d said something fundamental—a huge insight into his past. I wouldn’t let him retreat now. Taking a step forward, I pushed him, kept prodding, as if he were a cornered animal.

“No, but you have.” I couldn’t handle this. It hurt to think about Fox’s past—what he kept hidden. He’d almost killed me. He’d taken me against my will. I owed him my hatred, not my pity.

But how could I fear someone in such emotional pain?

The scar on his cheek glowed bright red, looking as if it wept with fresh blood. Colour flushed his neck line, highlighting faded scars I hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to throb before my eyes—changing from a zombie, a lifeless creature still going through the motions of life, to a man craving freedom.

“I know you’re not Australian, and I know your scar was a punishment. Tell me.”

He shook his head, damp hair flying. He bared his teeth. “Let me figure this out. You think you know me? You think you can read me and figure out what shit lives inside my head? You think you have superpowers?” He threw his arms up. “What other things do you think I happen to be, dobycha? A cutthroat murderer? A drug dealer? How about a rapist?” Running a harsh fingertip down the redness of his scar, he laughed. “Hang on, I guess I am a rapist after last night. Everything you think you know about me is tainted because of this. This scar—it makes you pity me and fear me.”

His shoulders bunched as he took a step forward. “You think you can guess how I got this? What I’ve done? Stop spinning your lies and fabricating stories. You’re so far off you’re in the realm of fantasy you’re embarrassing yourself. Do us both a favour and fuck off.”

His lips snapped shut. A metre separated us, keeping me safe from his seething rage.

Not once had he moved to grab or hurt me. Not once had he dropped his guard. All the while hating me for making him face the truth, he protected me by staying away.

Fatigue hit me and I sighed heavily. “You don’t trust yourself at all do you?”

He blinked at my whisper, so quiet after yelling.

My eyes met his, and I gave him a tiny smile. “Any normal person would touch and squeeze and manhandle each other in an intense argument, but you—you keep your distance. It’s not me you don’t trust—it’s yourself.”

He didn’t say a word, trembling in the wake of his terrible anger. Despite the colour flushing his neck and rage glowing in his eyes, he withheld his strict self-control. What would happen if I touched him? What would he do if I opened my arms and hugged him?

You’d die.

I knew it. As sure as the sun would set and rise again.

Silence fell between us, and my eyes dropped to his forearms. The jumper he wore had been pushed up, revealing corded muscle and scars.

Scars. Scars. Scars.

More than I could count. Some faded and silver, others red and healing. But it was the four straight and perfect lines seeping with bright red crimson that caught my attention.

I’d seen marks like that before. On another. I’d witnessed first-hand the fractured mind of an individual who sought pain to help remove the build-up of agony inside.

Clue was a self-harmer.

Over time, I’d helped her stop, but I would never forget walking into the kitchen one night and watching her drag a sharp blade over her skin. I’d shuddered in horror, but she’d breathed heavily in relief.

I hadn’t judged. I hadn’t said a word, but through friendship and support I helped her channel her pain into exercise and less destructive methods.

“You self-harm because you can’t deal with whatever lives inside you,” I murmured.

He choked on a swallow. Tense seconds ticked past before he took a small step toward me. His joints clicked from abuse past and new. Standing to his full height, he hissed, “Leave now before I do something I’ll regret.” His eyes flashed as he took another step toward me.

I stepped away, keeping out of touching distance. My anger came back swift and hot. Waving at him, taking in his furiousness, I growled, “You think you can scare me? You’re wrong. I’ve dealt with worse than you. You’re kidding yourself with your dramatics.”

Fox exploded from tightly coiled weapon to shrapnel bomb. “Get the fuck out! Now!”

“No!”

“Leave!”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear!” He gripped his head, tugging his hair. “Leave now. Leave! Fucking go!”

Every survival instinct in me wanted to obey, but I’d pushed him this far. “I understand you, more than you think.”

He laughed manically. “You? Miss perfect—the woman who has it all? Don’t make me prove how ridiculous you are. You’re a fucking chameleon with your lies and secrets.”

Cocking his head, he stared harder, going deeper inside me than anyone had before. I didn’t like how weak and insecure he made me. I didn’t like feeling that my house of lies would come tumbling down at any moment. I didn’t like being a specimen under scrutiny. “You think I don’t see you? You have a past, same as anyone—but it’s darker. You’ve done things others wouldn’t understand, but it doesn’t mean you know me. I don’t trust you, Hazel Hunter.” Moving forward, he pointed at the door behind me. “I won’t ask again. Final warning. Get the fuck out and leave me alone.”

I’d pushed hard, but I didn’t win. I’d done my best. Backing away, I narrowed my eyes. “You want me gone, fine. But you owe me. You owe me for whatever connection sprang between us last night. You felt it—same as me. You forced me to agree to your terms as you couldn’t ignore the call. What if that connection was the one thing that could help you? What if I’m the one person you’ve been searching for?”

I hadn’t meant to say that. It was presumptuous. It reeked of high-handed righteousness. I didn’t know if he felt the same draw. The same strange pull.

He reared back, knuckles going white from clenching his fists so hard. “Who the fuck are you to think you know me? You know nothing. Nothing! I don’t need your help. I don’t need your cure!” His voice changed from unrepentant anger to a slight thread of confusion. He stressed the word ‘cure’, slipping from Australian accent to something guttural, foreign, something that suited him far more than the falseness of his Australian twang.

I saw the truth. Clear as day. Everything I’d said had been real. Everything he tried to keep hidden came to light. “I’m not the only one lying. You are.” I tilted my head, eyeing him closely. It was as if answers came to me from nowhere. Seeing through his shadows and secrets, latching onto small snippets of truth. “I think you’re hiding from something and live in fear every day.”

Fox bristled and seethed and stewed.

All the caring, stupid instincts swelled, hoping he’d crack, wishing he’d let his walls down. This man didn’t need a woman to warm his bed. He needed a psychiatrist. I didn’t want to be near someone so toxic, but I couldn’t walk away either. “You owe me to let me help you.”

Fear suffocated my throat as he seemed to grow larger, adopting an icy exterior that gave no hint of remorse or humanity.

I froze, locked in his ferocious stare. Trouble was I couldn’t read him in that moment. He’d shut down, so all I saw was a cold man with a vicious streak amplified by the wicked scar.

He shuddered as his entire body went into lockdown. Muscles bunched beneath his clothing, his aura trembled with aggression and rebellion. “I owe you nothing,” he spit.

My heart raced. Truth screamed loud and clear. Somehow he earned the facial scar thanks to a debt gone wrong. He wasn’t a free man. He was owned by someone who either kept him on a tight leash, or abused him so much it wouldn’t take much more for him to snap.

Hardly breathing, I dropped my eyes to his trembling body. I wanted to figure out the dark damage lurking in his eyes.

My God. What happened to him?

My gaze zeroed in on his as if I was a compass needle and he was my north. I’d never suffered a phenomenon such as this. Never been so tuned to another. Perhaps we were kindred souls—linked by something past the realm of understanding. Kismet.

It’s too much. Too intense. Too dangerous.

I had Clara to protect and save—I had no reserves left for someone so deeply broken. It was time to cut him loose and forget—not just for my sanity, but my future as well. I hated that for the first time in forever, I felt weak. Weak because no matter how much I wanted to help him, I wouldn’t be able to. He was unsaveable.

Exhaling heavily, I let it out—forcing all my questions and curiosity out of my mind. My life was already complicated enough. I didn’t need to think about adopting a lost stray with a bite that would undoubtedly leave me in pieces.

“Forget it.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said, “I’ll go. But you should know I came back to give you a piece of my mind, but also to continue our agreement. I refuse to stay here for a month, but I was willing to spend my days with you. To give you what you wanted. Despite what I said—I did want you. I felt the same pull.”

His back rippled with tension. The air seemed to crackle and weep around him with a mixture of regret and self-loathing. For a moment, I thought he would throttle me. Reach out and grab my throat in his large hands and wring the air from my body. But then his anger diminished, flickering out to be replaced with utter coldness. “I don’t care. I never wish to see you again.”

Fuck him. I was done.

Whirling around, I stalked to the door. My anger crashed over me in a wave. I gave him my passion and offered a lifeline, and he threw it in my face.

The moment I walked out the door I never wanted to see him again. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I needed to make sure the goodbye was final.

“Don’t ever come near me again, Fox. If I see, or hear, or find out you’ve come near, I won’t just hurt you.

“I’ll kill you.”