Destroyed

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 f**king 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.