by Addison Jane
His roar filled the room.
It was anger.
And hatred.
And I was suddenly very fucking aware of just what this man was capable of.
The boxes.
The blood.
My feet carried me backward, my entire body shaking as I caught flashes shoot past my vision—the blood, the splatter on my shirt, the puddles on the ground.
Imaginary gunshots.
The feel of the concrete on my cheek.
I couldn’t let it take me back there. I needed to focus. I needed to protect Brook and get us both the hell out of here.
“Bitch,” Jester cursed, his shoulders rising and falling heavily while he cradled his stomach. He rolled his body upward, clicking his neck to each side before laughter once again began to fall from his mouth. “Come here.”
“Go to hell.”
He stormed forward, and I turned to run, making it just past the kitchen and into the entryway before a hand grabbed my neck, and he drove my body forward, slamming my temple into a framed painting on the wall.
The glass cracked—the loud crunch came first, the sharp throbbing pain a few seconds later. I groaned, feeling a droplet of blood trickle down the side of my face.
My head was spinning.
I wanted to throw up.
And my wish came moments later as Jester let out a loud cackle before driving his knee up into my stomach and forcing a stream of water I’d just drunk mixed with bile to spill out over the tile floor.
“Well, that’s gross,” he snorted, grabbing my wrist and pressing a hand to my back, directing me with force toward the door. My legs were shaking and stumbling, his grip on my wrist feeling like at any moment he could simply twitch and break it in half. “Come on, you and I have a date.”
We practically fell into the hall, and in my fuzzy daze, I caught sight of a pair of legs—blue jeans and motorcycle boots—lying just down the hall.
Tyler.
Digging my feet in, I started to shake my head, tears pooling in my eyes. “No, I have to check, I need to make sure he’s okay,” I pleaded, but I knew it was worthless.
His high-pitched laughter filled the hall as he forced me toward the elevators, but instead of stepping up to the guest elevators, he swiped a card on the employee elevator before slamming the down arrow with his palm.
“Stop right there,” a sharp order came from a few doors down. I recognized the voice instantly, my heavy eyes lifting just enough to see Avery step out of Shotgun’s bedroom, a handgun leveled directly at us. Her shoulders were pulled back, and she was following every movement we made. “Lake, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I croaked. Despite the aches and pains, I was fine.
“Let her go,” Avery demanded, not a single shake or waver in her voice, though I could tell she was nervous.
“Uh… sorry, but that’s gonna be a no-deal,” Jester chortled, quickly moving his body in behind mine, knowing she wasn’t about to take a shot at me. “No time to chat, we’ve got a ride to catch.”
The elevator doors dinged open, and he shuffled us both backward, twisting my arm up my back and forcing a painful whimper from my lips. Avery followed, her aim still steady, and a frustrated frown knotting between her eyes as she just had to stand there and watch the elevator doors slowly shut.
“Check Ty!” I screamed before they closed completely, my heart sinking at the thought he could be…
No. He couldn’t be.
Where was everyone?
Where were the boys?
Weren’t they downstairs training?
My head hurt, my mind raced, but my thoughts were all over the fucking place. The heavy blow keeping my brain from piecing anything together, or even really understanding what the hell was going on. If it were working properly, it would have noticed we were heading toward the basement.
It would have noticed the familiar-looking limo waiting with its door open.
And it wouldn’t have been surprised when I climbed inside and saw my father sitting, waiting.
“You just couldn’t be a good little bitch, could you?”
MYTH
“The fuck happened?”
My heavy footsteps shook the walls as I stomped into the hotel room where I’d left my woman only a couple of hours ago, but where she definitely was fucking not now.
Ty was sitting at the counter, his eyes barely open, and Rip and Kennedy attempting to hold him up, so he wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. Blood covered the back of his head, staining his scruffy blond hair. Dakota was attempting to clean up the huge lump and split that honestly looked like he was lucky to be breathing through. “I think he needs the hospital,” she answered, looking at me with worry in her eyes.
Shotgun had stormed in behind me, Repo and Huntsman not far behind him.
“Okay,” my president announced, taking a quick look at the damage. “Get him to the hospital. Take one of the cars. We have a couple things we need to sort out here, but we won’t be far behind.”
“I’ll go with them,” Rip announced, helping Kennedy and Dakota carry a weak Tyler out the door and down the hall.
My eyes began to move around the room.
Things were messy, smears of blood on the walls and the furniture, but nothing that looked life-threatening.
“She looked okay,” Avery announced, drawing everyone’s attention. She was leaning against a wall, a glass of clear liquid in her hand. “A little bit of blood on her head, but she was alert and moving on her own.”
Shotgun shifted slowly toward her. “You saw her?”
She nodded. “I was up having breakfast and heard banging.”
“What happened?” Shotgun prompted. I let him take the lead. I could feel my anger burning underneath my skin, making it itch, making my stomach swirl as the blaze began to grow bigger.
She took a large mouthful of the drink in her hand, and I knew instantly it wasn’t water. “I took the gun from your drawer, went out and pointed it at him, but he held Laken in front of him, so there wasn’t anything I could do.”
“And by him, we’re talking about Jester, right?”
She laughed softly. “Yeah,” she answered with not a shred of doubt. “I’ve never seen him, but that laugh…” A shudder trembled through her.
I knew why.
I could hear the sound of his laughter tormenting me.
It was sick, twisted, and it made your stomach churn.
But this wasn’t his doing alone. He wasn’t just a crazy fucker with a hard-on for amateur plastic surgery and killing off anyone who could be considered better than him in a ring. This time, he had the backing of an equally psychotic senator, and all the money and the power that came along with him.
“Fuck,” I cursed, slamming my fist against the wall, storming out of the hotel room and down the hall. Repo was right on my tail, Huntsman not far behind, the both of them managing to slip in through the elevator doors before they closed.
Huntsman eyed the keypad. “Penthouse?”
“I need to have a few words with the two brothers staying up there,” I explained through clenched teeth. “Before I kill their father.”
Huntsman simply shrugged, leaning his shoulder casually against the mirrored wall as we rode from the tenth floor to the twenty-fifth. Repo was far less relaxed, his fingers curling into fists and clicking his fingers before he released them again.
He was looking for someone to punish.
But he’d have to wait because it was my woman in the firing line, which meant I got the first shot at anyone in my fucking way.
And I was about to take it.
The elevator paused at the penthouse, and I reached over and entered the code into the keypad—I’d been up here a couple of times with Laken to see Casen. Atlas, though, had been noticeably absent. I knew why too. Because he was too busy letting his fucking father know what was happening with Jester, and giving him the details he needed to take me down.
I slipped through the doors before
they could even open all the way, stomping into the bright and open penthouse suite.
“What the hell are you do—” Atlas raged forward at me, but I wasn’t even paying a shred of attention to the words coming out of his mouth. I simply swung, and he didn’t have even a second to protect himself, my fist connecting with his jaw and sending him stumbling backward.
The pain in my knuckles felt good.
I needed it.
That tiny release.
“Hey!” Casen called, jogging over from the kitchen.
Atlas had already found his balls, though, rubbing at his jaw for a second before he dug his feet in and forced his body forward. “You think you’re so fucking shit-hot,” he screamed, his right fist flying but collecting absolutely nothing. He didn’t have the skills, not the kind he needed, and it had pissed him off for years because Casen had always been the favorite.
The one their father had put more time into even though Atlas felt like he worked harder.
Which is why he had to do other shit to get his dad’s attention and praise.
Like letting him know about Jester.
And giving Trenton a way to dispose of me so he could get to his daughter.
I grabbed Atlas’ shirt in my fists, picking him up off the floor and slamming his back against it, jolting his head hard.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Casen roared, grabbing his dazed brother from my vice grip and dragging him back before putting himself in between us. “The hell is wrong with you?”
“Atlas told your dad about this little feud I had going with Jester,” I growled, my chest heaving heavily as the storm of fire raged around me.
“We’d heard rumors it was him going after those fighters,” Casen noted, clearly confused.
Everyone in the fighting community knew.
“And you also heard I was next on his hit list.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah,” he admitted, grinding his teeth. “It’s one of the reasons we decided to stay so close.”
I was trying to focus, trying to keep my head cool and not allow the darkness to spread, but it was hard. I kept seeing the blood smears on the walls in the hotel room, knowing that asshole hadn’t just come and taken Laken, that he’d fucking hurt her.
In what way, I wasn’t sure, and it was driving me goddamn nuts, but I was holding onto the knowledge that she would have fought back. And that she would fight and fucking fight until I could get to her. I knew she would because she had everything to fight for.
“It’s funny,” Huntsman cut in. He and Repo had stayed out of it, let me deal with it until they were needed, but in that moment, it was getting harder and harder to find that control I’d spent years perfecting and working at. “You came here looking to protect her, and your brother over there is basically helping your dad recruit the crazy fucker.”
Casen frowned, his eyes moving between his little brother and me, who was huffing and puffing like he’d just gone three rounds and not had his shit handed to him. “What’s he talking about?” he asked, looking at Atlas.
“It was just a conversation,” Atlas defended. “He was asking about Myth, wanted to know what I knew.”
“Well, that conversation has just gotten your sister taken,” I spat, jerking forward but pulling back when Casen moved with me. His loyalty to his brother was something, I had to give him that. But I also had to wonder why it was never the same with Laken.
“Taken?”
“Yeah,” I scoffed, feeling my heart rate begin to slow a little, the adrenaline without doubt leaving my veins. “Found a phone call between your dear old dad and Jester, next thing, she’s gone… blood on our hotel room to prove it.”
Casen froze, his dark eyes narrowing at me for a few seconds before something finally clicked. He groaned, wiping his hand down his face. “He wants her for the ball tonight.”
“Say again?” Huntsman questioned.
“He throws this charity ball every fucking year,” Casen explained, his eyes dazing a little. “This year he’s decided to send the proceeds to Mental Health America, and basically used this new relationship with his disturbed and tortured daughter to bring in donations and possible investors.”
“What does he get out of it?” Repo questioned, his tone sharp.
“None of your fucking busi—”
“I swear to God, At…” Casen snapped, hitting his brother with a dark glare, “… this is Lee we’re talking about, and you fucking know what dad’s like. What the hell he’ll do to get what he wants. It’s not new!”
Atlas was a little younger than me, but acting like a fucking spoiled brat, the angry pout on his lips letting me know it was me he had the problem with. But I just didn’t have fucking time right now to let him work that shit out. All I wanted was to get to Laken before Trenton Clarke decided his use for her was done.
“The news about L-Laken brought in a lot of fresh investors for Dad’s campaign,” Casen explained when Atlas finally decided to zip his mouth shut and leave it that way. “Everyone wants to meet her, to see them together. The more he can convince them that he’s this amazing, accepting, supportive father, the more money people are going to hand him and the more votes he’s going to get in the next elections.”
It made sense.
Dead wife.
Damaged daughter.
Father who isn’t turning his back on her.
Yup, he was ticking all the boxes.
Making all the money. Gaining all the power.
Then when the ball is done, he won’t be able to let her leave or risk her talking, which means she’ll be done too.
“What are you gonna do?” Casen asked when I didn’t speak.
“I think we’re gonna go to a ball.”
LAKEN
“I told him not to damage your face.”
My eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of my father in the mirror.
He stood in my doorway, pulling at the cufflinks on his perfectly pressed suit. Just being in the same room as him made me feel physically ill, my stomach churning at the idea once again having to play a fucking part. The same part that led to my self-destruction in the first place.
But he’d never given a damn. Not when he stole my childhood. Or when he beat me. Or when I was almost killed because of him. And sure as hell not when he shared my darkest moments with the world and decided to use it to destroy me all over again.
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” I laughed, smearing more foundation on my face, caking it on so you couldn’t see the bruising and pulling my hair into place to hide the open fucking wound. “Unfortunately, psychotic serial killers aren’t always in the business of handling their anger well.”
Somewhat satisfied with my makeup, I took a deep breath, tugging at the hem of my dress, straightening it before stepping back and taking one last look at my reflection.
The short black dress was everything my father hated.
Too short.
Too tight.
Too sexy.
Fucking perfect.
He sighed, shaking his head while his nose crinkled. I knew he wanted to say something. He wanted to protest and tell me to change. And then when I told him no, he’d punish me.
This time was different, though.
This time he needed me, and I had to look perfectly presentable.
“Don’t act like this was my fault, Leah,” he scolded with a heavy frown. “You could have come with me at the clubhouse last week. What the hell was I meant to do?”
I spun around, honest shock on my face, though I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised at his arrogance and ignorance. “How ‘bout leave me the fuck alone,” I cursed angrily. “How ‘bout not using me to push your personal and political agenda?”
“People are itching to see you,” he growled, ignoring everything else.
“They are itching to see Leah. And like I’ve told you plenty of times… Leah doesn’t live here anymore.”
It went straight over his head,
not hearing a single fucking word. “Remember to smile.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
He didn’t even blink. It was like he was staring straight through me. This was the Trenton Clarke the media didn’t see—the cold-hearted, narcissistic, self-absorbed Trenton. There were no dramatic hugs, no fake tears, no big show for the cameras as he pretended to be a perfect dad.
Instead, he sighed, his shoulders rising dramatically as he took in a deep breath before resting his body onto the back the doorframe. He folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t be dramatic.”
I reached over, grabbing the glass of water from the hotel room nightstand and spinning around. It launched from my hand with power, my aim hopefully better than my ability to play along like I’d told him I would for tonight. The glass connected with the wall beside my father’s head, spraying water and shards of glass all over the pristine wooden floors. “Too dramatic for you?” I scoffed, my body beginning to heat as though I’d just stepped into the depths of hell and slapped the devil.
He took a step forward, his fingers rolling into a fist.
I started to laugh, and instead of backing away, I stepped in closing the distance. “Do it,” I taunted, my skin tingling in anticipation. “We can walk out there as a happy family. You in your overpriced suit and me with a black eye to match.”
His eyes simply looked up at me from beneath his thick brow as the rage in him built. “You don’t want to play that game, Leah.” The warning sent a shudder rolling through me, and I hated that even as strong as I was now, just the tone of his fucking voice was enough to send me straight back to being that young girl.
The one who fought so fucking hard for her father’s approval.
And for his love.
That was Leah, though.
She was badly broken but desperately trying to cover her flaws with makeup, money, and friends.
I didn’t want to be Leah anymore.
I hadn’t been Leah for years.
Leah was a persona molded and perfected by my father, a part I was starting to understand he’d been grooming me for since I was a baby.
