by Rachel Leigh
I’m free.
At least I thought I was. Looking around the property, I’m more trapped than ever. I have no idea where I am.
I haul ass and run and run and run.
There is nothing but open desert and the house that looks like a speck in the distance behind me. I can tell we are still in Arizona, but that doesn’t help me one bit.
Dizziness comes over me suddenly. I feel weak and dehydrated; hunger eats away at my stomach.
I fall to my knees and break down. I scream at the top of my lungs, not giving a damn who might hear me. It feels so good to get it out. My sounds echo around me. I lift my head and see a glimmer of a reflection, bouncing off from something about 100 yards away.
I get to my feet and keep walking toward it. A callbox sits on a metal post. I don’t bother pressing any buttons, I know immediately that it goes to the house, either that or to Malcolm’s direct line.
I keep walking, trying to gain strength, but the more I walk, the weaker I get. My lips are dry and cracked, likely bleeding at this point. I try not to swallow because the coarseness in my throat is unbearably painful.
A long while later, unsure how long, I’m met with a large metal gate. On the other side of the gate is a dirt road. Hope suddenly replenishes me. I just need to get to the other side, then I can flag someone down. I try to climb, but it’s impossible.
I walk up and down, looking for an opening.
Then I give up.
I sit down on the dry grass and wait, hoping someone drives by, before I lose consciousness.
When I can no longer hold my head up, I rest it on the prickly landscape.
My thoughts drift to him.
If what Zeke said is true, Knox is in big trouble.
26
Knox
Shane gives me a pep talk in the locker room, while Axel continues preparing for tonight’s events. I don’t even hear anything he’s saying. His words are drowned out by the thoughts in my head.
At this point, all I know is that Claire was living under an assumed name. Mr. Thorn knows much more than he’s letting on, but says he’s still looking, and when he knows anything, he will be in touch.
I feel like I should be doing more—-more than sitting in this room listening to Shane talk to me about unsportsmanlike conduct and grappling.
The locker room door opens with a screech when Axel walks in. Following him is a man in a suit. A man whose wealth is highly apparent. His gaze is on me, as he walks toward me with self-assurance.
“Nick Rooney.” He extends his hand to me.
I give him a lazy sweep, not liking the dominant vibe he’s putting off. “Knox.” I lift my chin and shake his head. His grip is firm, before he drops it in an instant.
“Nick is the new partner I told you about,” Axel interjects, trying to cut the tension.
For some reason, this guy’s eyes are locked and loaded on me, and it’s making me feel uneasy. I stand up from the bench and walk past him.
“I’m excited to see what you’ve got tonight.” Nick follows behind me. “You’ve got quite the competition, but if you’re as smooth in a fight as you are with the ladies, you’ll have no problem at all.” He claps my shoulder, before exiting through the door he used to enter the room.
I swing around to Knox and Shane. “Who the hell is that guy?” My thumb shoots over my shoulder.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Axel trudges toward me. “It’s showtime, baby.” He turns me around and walks to the door, and I follow behind him. “Things are being done a little different now, thanks to my generous new partner.”
We walk into the hall and through the faculty and fighter only door that leads to the arena.
“Fuck me hard,” I mutter.
The place is packed body to body. A new timer hangs high on the back wall, a banner streams from the center of one wall that read Fight Night, and a neon sign that says Main Feature: Stefan vs. Knox is placed on the north side of the cage.
Shane comes up behind me. “You’ve got this. You’ve been working your ass off, and you have just as much of a shot at winning than any of the other fighters.”
He’s right. I have been working my ass off. Day after day, through sweat and tears. I haven’t enjoyed one bit of it—until now.
Something about being out here right now pumps me up. An adrenaline rush kicks in, and I’m ready to tear someone up.
“Let’s do this.”
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to your main event. Fighting from the left corner, coming in at 195 pounds, Knox, the Fox.”
If I win this fight, I’m killing Axel. Knox, the Fox? What the hell? Sounds more like a stripper name. I don’t even care; I jog up to the cage, waving my hands in the air and take my corner. Shane wraps my hands, as Axel announces my opponent.
“In the right corner, coming in at 205 pounds, Give it up for Stefan, the Slayer.”
At this point, I can’t even think. I’m energized and ready to do this. Shane gives me a smack on the ass, gearing me up even more.
“Fighters ready?”
A girl I’ve never seen before walks around the ring with the first round sign. The crowd hoots and hollers.
Once she’s down, we meet in the middle. My opponent’s eyes are fixed on mine. His frame is about the same size as mine, but the look in his eyes is sinister—fearless and provoked.
“Fight.”
The referee drops his arm with his whistle in his mouth.
Stefan wastes no time coming at me.
“Slayer takes a feeble swing at Fox. Annnd, he misses.”
I dodge his first throw and bounce to the side, leveling my feet in a downward slouch. I tuck my arm and throw an uppercut, missing my shot and taking a blow to the left side of my cheek, instead.
I’m too stunned to do anything but dodge the other punches being thrown at me in quick succession. I take a couple hits and finally land one on the side of his head. Hoping I stunned him a bit, but it did nothing but give him the motivation to come at me full force.
A jab straight to my nose sends blood running into my mouth. I spit to the side and clinch onto him, to avoid any other shots, until I can get ahold of myself.
It doesn’t work to my advantage, though, because I’m swung around and my back is slammed down, forcefully, against the mat.
I hold my fists in front of my face, attempting to block the hits, but a few slip through.
“Oh man, Knox is taking some blows,” Axel shrieks.
The whistle sounds, and relief washes over me.
I steady myself on my feet and walk over to Shane, feeling pretty out of it. The sound of the crowd chanting rings in my ears.
“You good?” Shane asks, as he rubs some salve on my open wounds.
I blink a few times and nod my head. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You gotta bob when those punches come.” He grabs a bottle of water and tips my head back, squirting it down my throat and as the water hits my face, it snaps me out of my slumber.
Another girl makes her round, and we are back in the middle of the mat.
As soon as the whistle blows, I start swinging. I land a couple good shots, but like a bull seeing red, he’s out for blood.
The next thing I know he’s lunging at me, a direct hook straight to the jaw. He pivots then swings around and lands another one. The popping sound of knuckles meeting bone bounces off the bars of the metal cage.
The crowd gasps.
Another blow to the rib cage sends me down to the mat. Bending over my body, as I try and shield myself, yet again, he takes every opportunity he can to pound away at my flesh.
“Shit,” Axel yells into the mic, “get up, man.”
I hear the sound of the whistle, and my eyes make out the blurred outline of the ref, swinging his arms to stop my opponent, but he’s unstoppable.
A sharp sting in the head leaves me feeling like this may be the end. I can feel the warmth of the blood running down my face.
“Stop him, d
ammit,” Axel screams.
The crowd is going crazy.
My eyes close, seeing only darkness, I feel the weight of his body leave mine.
I feel relief, although I can barely breathe, feeling like I’m choking on my own blood. I turn to the side and begin vomiting—at least I think it’s vomit, maybe it’s blood.
Just when I think it can’t get any worse, a foot aggressively meets my rib cage.
I can hear the sound of the microphone drop, before everything goes black.
27
Claire
I blink my eyes a few times, hoping that I’m waking up from the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours.
I’m in a car!
My entire body jumps up on its own free will, as if it automatically shifts to defense mode, because I’ve trained myself to react that way.
“It’s ok.” A hand reaches into the backseat and sweeps my leg in an attempt to calm me.
“Jorge?” I lean forward to get a look, even though I’d know that voice anywhere. “Oh my God, Jorge!” I all but jump into his lap, throwing my arms around his neck, causing him to swerve the car. I don’t even care. I plant a dozen kisses on the top of his head, before dizziness hits me.
“Easy girl,” he hands me a strawed cup, “drink this.”
I grab the bottle, quickly, as if my life depended on this drink. I drop back into the backseat and wrap my dry lips around the straw, closing my eyes as I savor every swallow. I don’t stop until the water is gone.
“How did you find me?” I toss the empty cup on the floorboard and climb into the front seat.
“I might just be a bodyguard, but my investigative skills have gotten pretty damn good, after working for that asshole.”
I turn to face him, tucking one leg under the other. “You could have been killed. You shouldn’t have come back.”
“I promised to always protect you, and I make good on my promises.” His lips curl up. His gentle approach and soft spoken words always calm me and reassure me. Countless nights over the years have been spent holding on to the words he spoke, just to give me a glimmer of hope.
“Jorge,” I draw in a breath, “Zeke told me that Malcolm is planning on doing something to Knox. I have to get to him.”
His head begins to shake no mid-sentence. “You can’t go back.”
“I have to, you don’t understand.”
The car suddenly swerves to the side of the dirt road, coming to a complete stop. Jorge turns to me, “Claire, I’m pretty sure Malcolm is in Redwood as we speak. If you go back, he will take you, and I fear you will never get away, if that happens. You got lucky this time—next time, he will throw out the big guns, and it won’t be pretty.”
I can feel whatever contents are left in my stomach travel up my throat, but I swallow it down. A battle between breaking down in tears and screaming again overcomes me. Knox is so innocent in this; he doesn’t deserve the wrath of Malcolm.
“I don’t care,” I deadpan, “if I have to be his prisoner for the rest of my life to save Knox, I’ll gladly accept the role.”
Jorge goes silent for a minute, tapping the steering wheel, deep in thought. Then he pulls his phone down from the dash stand it sits on.
“What are you doing?”
“I think I know someone who can help.”
I sit back and listen. Biting my fingernails, which I rarely do. I chew one down to the skin. My nerves are shot and my anxiety is at an all-time high.
“Good evening, Ms. Porter.”
My body jerks up, and I lean closer to listen.
“I want to thank you again for all your help, but I need to ask another favor,” he continues, “a friend of yours might be in some trouble. I’m heading in that direction, but it will be a good hour before I make it to Redwood.” He looks at me.
“Friend? What friend?” I hear her voice come through the phone.
“Knox umm..”
“Burton.” I spit out. “Knox Burton.”
She must have heard my voice.
“Is that Claire? And, what’s going on with Knox?” Her voice is panicked.
“It’s a long story. Do you have any idea where he might be right now?”
“Yes, I know exactly where he is. His friend, Axel’s, little fight club. Now, tell me what the hell is going on.”
Jorge pulls the car to the side of the road and continues to drive in the same direction we were heading. Getting tired of the small talk, I snatch the phone from his hand.
“Hey.” Jorge tries to grab it back, but I press myself against the passenger door, so he can’t reach it, while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel.
“Where is this club?” I speak into the phone.
I can hear the sirens as soon as we get into town. They are coming from every direction. Loud, blustering, and numbing.
As soon as the car comes to a stop in front of the old building, I jump out. Five stories of darkened windows in front of me. Flashing lights. Students, who I recognize, fleeing in a fury of panic.
I catch Blakely rushing toward me. “Claire,” she gasps, pulling me in for a hug, “it’s not good.”
“No. Oh God no.” My chin trembles, as I slump down, falling into her arms. “Is he—?” I can’t even say the word.
“No, he’s alive, but he’s been beaten pretty badly. He’s on his way to the hospital. I was just getting ready to go there. Do you need a ride?”
I straighten myself up, narrowing my eyes with a clenched jaw. “No,” my head shakes, “I have something I need to do first.”
Without even noticing his presence until I’m walking away from it, Jorge follows behind me. He doesn’t even try to stop me, as I zero in on the man who has caught my attention.
A menacing smile grows on my face, as I approach him with slow, yet eager strides. I ignore the fact that I look like a dried-up cactus walking toward him. My hair looks like stray strands of tumbleweed, my clothes are battered and stained, and my skin is chapped.
Fear, a thing of the past. Now, he is the one who needs to fear me. Once he’s within reach, I charge at him full speed. “You no good piece of shit,” I scream, as my fists pound into his chest, “I hate you.”
He stands there taking it all, laughing, not giving a care about the people who stand, idly by, watching us. He made this mess, all of this. The sirens, the lights, the people in dismay, he did this; yet, he has not a care in the world.
“You think you’re untouchable, unbreakable? I will destroy you, Malcolm Rossi,” I grit through my teeth, nose to nose with him.
“I don’t know why you are so upset with me, sweetness. You did this.” His face is blank, and his voice so calm and collected.
“I didn’t do this,” I huff, giving him a shove and pushing myself away from him. “Why would you say that?”
His head cocks to the side and presses his lips into a thin line. “You set this all in motion. If you would have never left me, your boyfriend would be living his best life right now. You just had to take that little freedom trip, didn’t you?” He places his hands on my shoulders and leans in closely. “How was it? Any regrets?”
“Just one,” I clench my dry mouth, “that I didn’t kill you first.”
He releases a prolonged breath, followed by more ominous laughter. His mouth ghosts my ear, sickening me, as his exhaled air hits my skin, “I wouldn’t put it past you, after all, you’ve killed before.” He takes a step back. “Should I remind you of that night?”
“I remember that night very clearly. How can I forget? It’s the night you forced me into being your wife.”
“For your own good. I did it to protect you. Don’t you see, everything I do is to protect you.”
“You set me up.” I stick my finger in front of his face. “You knew exactly what that man planned to do to me, and you knew that I wouldn’t take it lying down.”
“Pish posh, I don’t have time for this right now. I have other matters to attend to.” He grabs me by the arm. “We’re going
home.”
“Like hell, I’m going anywhere with you.” I jerk away, swinging my arm back around and slapping the side of his face with the back of my hand.
He speaks through his clenched white teeth, “get in the fucking car.”
Jorge steps in between us. “Hands off the lady.”
“You sir, have a death wish. Just wait. This isn’t over.” Malcolm looks from Jorge to me. “I will be back, and you will come home, then you will never leave again.” He backs up slowly, before turning and walking away, as his men follow.
Two hands wrap around the back of my arms. “Get your hands off me.” I try to shake free, knowing that it’s one of his men trying to capture me again. Right here in the public eye, it is his style after all.
“It’s ok, Ms. Hyland. It’s me, Axel.”
I spin around. “Axel,” I gasp, “how is he?”
I know that everyone is about to question my concern for Knox, but I don’t even care. I left my job, I plan to leave this town, where they will all be far away from my mess; I just have to be sure Knox is ok first.
“He’s got some broken ribs and a concussion, a few stitches and staples. He’ll be fine.” Axel nods in contentment.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”
He nods his head away from the center of the crowd, where a guy is being pushed into a police car. Someone I’ve seen before. “Who is that?” My neck twists, as I watch him, his eyes finding mine. Fear washes over him, and he turns away quickly.
“That’s the guy who beat up Knox.”
“I know him from somewhere, and it's not from Redwood.”
“We need to talk, and you need to tell me everything.” Axel picks up his pace, so I follow him, Jorge following me. It reminds me of old times, he’s always there, but doesn’t make a sound.
28
Claire
“You’re telling me that you think I need to go back and pretend to be a happy wife?” I shake my head. “No way, he will never buy it.”
Anderson Thorn presses his elbows to the desk. “Then you let him catch you on his own.”
