by Holt, Leah
“I don't care about your problems. I'm not fighting for you, I told you that already.”
“You did, but this time it's different.” His teeth emerged behind a hideous grin. “You see, I need to pay him now. I've owed him for a long time, too long really.” Twirling his thumbs around each other, he spoke with ease. “So, here is the deal. You fight for me, just this one time, that's it. Then I'll leave you alone, you can have my blessing to see my daughter freely.”
I stared at him, unsure of what to think. Could he really be offering me a chance to free his daughter from his grasp?
But how do you trust the word of the devil?
“I don't believe you. It can't be that simple. Fight this one time? That's it?” Wrinkles raised across my forehead, shooting him a sideways glance.
“That's it. I need this win and my debt is clear.” He waved his hands across each other, signaling the end.
Was he really serious? There's no way! It couldn't be true, he's lying, there has to be more. This fight would turn into another and then another. I bet before I knew it he'd have me on his fucking payroll.
I was torn, I wanted to believe him, wanted to think I could fix everything for Cadence with one win. But, I couldn't break my word, the promise I gave Rainee's mother. I fought for Louis already, I had waivered on my promise just so I didn't look like a pussy.
He had called me out once and now here he was trying to do that again.
I'm not falling for it, I was weak for one instant, one moment in time and I know I can be forgiven for that.
But, to do it again, to get sucked into the belly of the beast...
No.
“I'm not fighting for you. Cadence, she belongs to me now anyway. Your grip around her is fading, if you hadn't noticed. Use another one of your dogs.” Turning away from him, I wrapped my palm around the handle, ready to walk out that door and never look back.
“You're sealing her fate then, Quinn.”
Stopping dead, my head snapped over my shoulder. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Of course I had to have plan B for if you said no. And, I'm sorry to say this but... I gave you the option that kept Cadence in your hands.” The lie tumbling forward over false affection. “Now, she won't even belong to me. I told you I owe a lot of money, she'll belong to someone else to help pay off my debt. All I need to do is make that call. I'll really miss my daughter, I don't want to have to do this, but you're forcing me, Quinn.”
My muscles seized, the words crawling over my flesh like hundreds of bugs. Exploding through each nerve, they tore through my veins, boiling my body from the inside. I felt a pain more intense than anything I had ever experienced.
“You can't sell her! She's not your fucking property!” Screaming at him, my hands balled, chest struggling to find the air to breathe. I was in shock that he would even consider that as an option.
“I can and will do what I want. If you won't take my offer to fight, then I have no other option.” He spoke with no emotion, no care for what he was considering.
What kind of person sells their daughter to pay a debt?!
He truly is the epitome of evil.
The urge to dive over the desk and strangle the life from him rode my spine. He was a waste of air, the lowest piece of shit I had ever met.
He was tying my hands, pulling a noose around my neck. I had to fight now, there was no way I could let him sell Cadence.
She was worth fighting for.
But, I was going to set some rules of my own. He wasn't going to tangle his fingers in full force.
Fuck! What the fuck! She can't know about this. She doesn't need to, it could ruin her. I don't want her to ever think she was just a bartering tool.
Cadence was so much more than she had realized, more than her own flesh and blood had ever realized.
The Macro, he'll get what's coming to him.
Karma has its way of making it around full circle.
For now, Cadence needed me, she needed me to keep her safe; No matter what.
And he knew it too.
Chapter Twelve
Cadence
I stared at the door, eyes frozen in place. Nico sat off to the side watching me, his greasy skin gleamed under the lights. A twisted, creepy smile rested across his cheeks.
He leaned back, a meaty paw wrapped around his drink. His stare crawled over my figure, riding my curves, as he switched between me and the door.
The urge to hit him again settled in my fists. I wanted to smack that look right off his face.
How long has Quinn been in there? Ten... Twenty minutes?
My heart was racing, the pounding was so intense, I could feel it in my eyes. Sweat was beading up on my palms, I repeatedly wiped them over my thighs. The pit in my stomach was churning. Nerves electrified and charged shot through my entire body.
What does my father want from him?
Quinn won't fight. He won't. Not after what he went through.
My dad was obviously planning this, he never did anything without running through the risks and rewards. He didn't tell me what he was thinking, but he had been damned determined Quinn would fight for him.
So, he went to Nico. To the next best person on his list, the one he knew would bend over and kiss his ass.
I think he saw himself losing me, he could see me disconnecting, growing bolder. My back bone was hardening, taking shape inside. The once timid and subservient child he had raised, was now climbing out of that shell.
He was watching his grasp slowly lift, finger by finger, peeling away.
My father could see how I felt about Quinn, the lust that flickered between us, it had to eat him up inside. I hadn't expected to form any real feelings for Quinn. He had stood up for me. When my father wanted me to bring him back, I honestly thought Quinn would agree to work for him.
The money always spoke to the fighters. My dad paid well, but he paid himself better. Most of the men fighting had nothing to lose, they needed any money that would be thrown their way. The guys that came to the Ground Game, came in search of two things:
Money or blood.
The Macro created some of these men, gave them the guidelines to succeed or to fail. He had the inside information. Those that came in to bet, they came in like this was the fucking casino. Like they were going to pull the handle and win thousands of dollars.
Sadly, that's how the game was played. My dad would give 'tips'. He would make the high rollers feel special, let them win a few matches, let them feel their bankroll thickening. And then, take them for all they were worth.
Quinn had said no; the promise to his best friend weighed more than any amount of money. It was his sense of loyalty that sent butterflies through my belly, tingles over my spine.
When he had taken me to see those kids, it melted my soul. He had a desire to fight, but to keep his promise, to maintain his word, he shared his love of the ring and taught others.
His heart pounded with fire and compassion, a life marred by loss and still fueled to keep going.
We bore similar pasts, and that gave me comfort knowing he could understand me. I hadn't told him too much about my mother. Like him, I understood how it felt to lose someone you loved.
I had connected with him on another level that day, one I had never experienced before with anyone else.
The door to the office flew open, hinges barely holding it in place as Quinn slammed it closed. The bang ricocheted off the walls, vibrating so forcefully I could feel it across my chest.
Looking into his face, his eyes were hollow, concealing any emotion. “Quinn,” I said loudly.
Met with silence, he stormed passed me. His shoulders widened, chest puffed out, as he shoved people out of his way. His mouth went taut, brows furrowed deep, anger dripping off his temples in the form of sweat.
What the hell is wrong? Why isn't he looking at me?
Dropping the bottle I had clenched in my hand, I swiftly darted from behind the bar. “Quinn! Wait!” I
yelled, trying to force my voice louder than the noises drowning me.
Fuck! Why is he ignoring me? What did my dad say to him?
He wouldn't stop, he kept going strong, clear out the front exit.
Pressing through the mass of people, the breeze flushed my face, rain streaking down through my hair, dampening my clothes.
Twisting erratically, throwing my neck left to right, I spun in all directions, looking for him. Hunting through the hundreds of faces, the mass of bodies blending into each other like crayons melting in the hot sun.
All the faces looked the same, I couldn't pick one person out from another, it was impossible, like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Cliche, I know, but it's the god honest truth, if I hadn't understood that saying before, I did now.
He was gone, disappeared into the shadows.
Gripping the sides of my head, I forced my hair back, breathing heavily, anxious to know what had happened.
He acted like I wasn't even there! He ignored me, tore through this place without even giving me a fucking flick of his eyes.
My heels hit the floor with urgency. I needed answers, and I wasn't going to let my father try and talk or intimidate me into submission.
Briskly stepping past Nico, a chuckle hit my ears, his face gleaming. “Huh, wonder why he's so upset?” He lifted his glass to his lips, shrugging as he spoke.
Stopping in my tracks, my jaw went crooked. “You know what, Nico? You're a fucking asshole. Your nose is shoved so far up my dad's ass, you can probably taste it.” Pursing my lips, my hand rose in front of his face, middle finger extended firmly. “Fuck you.”
I didn't give him time to speak, I didn't care if he was going to say anything or not. At that moment, I needed to know what was said between Quinn and my father. Why he stormed away with out a word, what the fuck was going on?
Throwing the door open, my dad sat leaning back in his chair. A large smile painted on his face, teeth clenching the thick edge of a cigar.
His arms opened to welcome me in. “Cadence, sweetheart, did you hear the good news?”
“Good news? What the hell is going on? Quinn booked it out of here and wouldn't even look at me! What the fuck did you say to him?!”
“We discussed a few things, came to an agreement, and he's going to fight for me. He finally came to his senses.” His eyes crossed, looking down the barrel of the cigar as he lit the tip.
“Wh-What? Fight for you?” My head spun, the room faded into a blur. Every emotion- anger, sadness, hatred; streamed in hitting me full force. Stepping back, I gripped the wall, my legs weakening, trembling up my thighs.
A smug grin pulled across his face as he said, “He's fighting for me, Cadence. And you won't be able to talk him out of it. This is set in stone.” He lifted a piece of paper, Quinn's signature scripted across the bottom.
He told me he wouldn't. Why would he go through all of this to lie?
A surge of anger sparked, this didn't sit right with me. My father had his hand in this, and the way Quinn left, this whole thing reeked of shit. I didn't believe what I was hearing, nothing made sense.
My father didn't know what I knew. He hadn't seen or heard what Quinn had shared, the side of him that he kept shielded from the world. The loss of his friend that locked him outside that door.
Yes, he had been tempted, and I guess you could say he relapsed, because he was called out, put on the spot. It was like dangling a steak in front of a hungry dog; of course they're going to try and take a bite.
“I don't believe you.” Glaring at him, fire glowed beneath my lids.
“Believe it, he's fighting this weekend. I'm sorry, honey, I know you really liked him, but now, he's off the table.” Holding the paper up, it swayed between his fingers.
I wanted to rip it out of his hands, burn it into ashes. He was fucking with me and I knew it. He did something to make him sign his soul to the devil, this couldn't have been done willingly.
How could Quinn have been caressing my lips, fucking me with his eyes, only too turn his view completely and rush out in silence?
“No. This isn't right. What did you do? Did you threaten him? What did you say?!” I lunged toward his desk, looming over him. “You forced him to do this, how? Why? Tell me!” My fists came down hard on his desk, the small lamp shade rocked with the vibration.
This man had controlled me all my life, taught me to love and fear him. Standing in front of him now, disdain was all that I could taste in the back of my throat.
“It doesn't matter, he belongs to the Ground Game, and to me now.” His brows dipped down, muscles freezing against his face. An emotionless expression glared over me.
“That's it, I'm done.” Throwing my arms up I said, “You think you can just do whatever you want, that your entitled to own people. Guess what? You don't own me, not anymore.” Turning my back to him, I was ready to close him out of my life, wash my hands of the man who raised me.
“Cadence, you know that's not how this works. You might want to watch what you're saying.” Jolting up from his chair, he strolled in my direction, folding the paper and shoving it in his front pocket. “I know you're upset, he sweet talked you, and now he's agreeing to work for me. I'm sorry for that.”
“Stop it,” I said, raising my hand. “This isn't right.” Inching towards me, his fingers stretched over my shoulder, creeping across like a spider. “Don't touch me!” Jerking away, I stepped back.
“Don't disrespect me.” His fingers twined together, tugging the trim of his blazer. “I don't want this to get ugly, but you're getting out of line.”
Rolling my eyes, my jaw fell open. “Out of line? You know what, go to hell, asshole.”
A sudden buzz rang through my ear, hot pins hitting my cheek. The quick lash of a back hand had met my face.
My hand sprung up to sooth the sting. Glaring at him, I tore the door open. Stepping through the threshold, with my shoulders pressed back and head held high, and I finally felt some sense of myself, who I was.
The strong power I had buried deep inside, the tiny flame that seethed without being noticed, had engulfed into a burning inferno.
I made my way out to the street, ignoring the customers as they eyed me.
Tonight I quit, and as far as I was concerned, this bar could be shoved up his ass too.
The rain continued to fall, all day the gray sky wreaked havoc, pouring hoards of water over the city. The sewers were working overtime to keep the streets clear from flooding.
Stepping off the sidewalk, my foot was suddenly drenched by the four inch puddle hidden against the concrete.
Shit, could this day get any worse?
The guy I'm falling for suddenly decides to sign his life away to my dad, the man I should be able to go to for advice- is a fucking selfish waste of life.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Lifting my head to the darkening sky, I searched for an answer.
I wanted one to fall down, hit me in the face, so I didn't have to think anymore.
Lately, thinking hurt like hell.
Standing on the edge of insanity and the sidewalk, I sat down. The wet cement soaking my jeans, my ass now a deep shade of blue, giving off the impression I had pissed myself.
In this city, that was where any passerby's head would go. If I stood up and strolled away, anyone behind me would assume I was a drunk who couldn't make it to a bathroom, or just didn't care too.
At this point, I didn't give a shit what anybody thought.
Settling my head against my knuckles, cheek pushed up, fluffing over the edge, I wanted to crawl into a hole.
Rubbing the sore apple of my cheek, my fingers traced the swelling outline, a raised shadow of his palm emerging.
Fucking asshole, hitting me like that. Real good role model, a true man...
Ha! I laughed to myself, absorbing the true nature of what happened.
No, he's scum, he has no feelings. He never did, I don't know why I ever though
t I could change him.
I needed to find Quinn, talk to him and let him know I knew there was a reason he had signed that contract.
'But why?', was the question I had. What threat had my father laid out for him to ink that paper?
My head throbbed, veins pulsing against my forehead, swelling with anxiety. I had been torn for years between my father and my life. A tiny voice had always told me to be there for my dad, that he needed me, that he had my best interests at heart.
That voice had seized, it's muted, gagged, and choked off. I was worth more than this, more than what had been displayed for me.
I had choices, and needs, feelings, and expectations. I'm human, living and breathing, a heart pumped my blood.
My father was made of pieces of perdition. He wanted me to suffer eternal punishment for the death of my mother, his loss of Uri Powell.
I haven't said her name in years, it was hard to form those letters. Even the voice inside my own head couldn't materialize her name across my tongue. It just hurt too much.
All my life I had felt her hands cradled around me, holding me when I needed a hug, lifting me when I was down, pushing me when I needed support. She had been there in spirit, her love flowed through every inch of me.
It's hard to explain, to know and feel the love she had for me even though I never had the chance to meet her, to see her; it's there, it has always been there.
That was one thing my father could never take.
Her love.
I shouldn't have ever questioned or second guessed what my heart had said to me. My entire life had been a fucking game to him. I was playing chess against him for years, my world being checked against his moves.
He was the king and I was his pawn.
Why did I let this go on for so long? I led him to think he could treat me anyway he wanted!
Fuck! How stupid am I?
No, not stupid... Weak, I was weak.
The splashing of feet behind me sent chills down my back, the cold water forcing me to stand. Wiping my ass in a feeble attempt to dry it, the crisp fabric forming to my shape, goosebumps stiffening my pores.
