by Monica James
Taking me to her childhood home and telling me about her life and her son were her way of trying to connect with me. For some unknown reason, she likes me. I don’t know why. She sees something in me that I don’t.
I’m trying my hardest to keep her from my shit, but it seems she doesn’t want to stay away. I can never tell her what I have planned, so it doesn’t seem fair to start anything with her because she is bound to get hurt. But I’m finding it harder and harder to fight these urges inside me.
When the GPS spits out that the destination is a couple of blocks away, I’m thankful I’m able to act on these urges in a different way. I’m looking forward to making someone bleed.
Parking my truck, I look at the derelict warehouse in front of me. There is no one around. Locking my door, I slip my hood over my head and keep my chin downturned as I make my way to the steel fence. It has a small hole cut out of it. Ducking low, I step through it and scope out my surroundings.
The warehouse is dark, hinting no one is inside. But the deserted exterior is just a front for what’s really going on inside or, more specifically, what’s going on inside the soundproof basement. I shoulder open the unlocked door, ensuring to close it behind me.
Kong was a little vague in his instructions—enter through the door in the main office. Peering from left to right and up over the three floors, I wish he’d been a little more specific because I see about thirty doors that could be classified as the main office.
But I know this was done with intent. He isn’t going to spoon-feed me, so this is a test—one that I don’t plan on failing. I’m not going to play lucky dip, hoping I stumble across the right door. I’ll use my senses.
Closing my eyes, I listen carefully for vibrations, the ones responsible for giving us the sense we’re being watched. I inhale deeply, sifting through the smell of musty garbage to chase any sign of life.
Late at night, when you’re trapped behind bars, using every skill at your disposal will help save your life. I learned this the hard way. But I learned, and I use that knowledge to feel for the pulse of energy…
Gotcha.
Opening my eyes, I zero in on a door on the second floor. I have no idea how a room from the second floor can lead to the basement, but I’m about to find out as I climb the rusty staircase. When I get to the door in question, I open it with caution but am surprised when I see there is no door inside. It’s just an empty room with a blacked-out window.
Removing my hood, I scan my surroundings, refusing to believe I’m wrong. I’m rarely wrong, especially when it comes to stuff like this.
Walking vigilantly inside, I tilt my head, examining the wooden floor. The surface is even with no raised edges to hint at a trapdoor, so that just leaves the window. It’s stiff as I try to jimmy it open, but it eventually gives.
When I open it, I find scaffolding that allows access to a small building behind the main warehouse. The only way to get to it is through the warehouse, which is a smart move. Stepping out of the window, I climb down the scaffolding and jump to the ground.
There still isn’t any noise, but when I enter the building and find two beefy men guarding a metal door, I know things are about to get real. They stop talking and look at me closely.
“I’m Tommy,” I state bluntly. “If there is some secret handshake, I don’t know it. So don’t waste my time and let me in.”
I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.
One of the guys speaks into a walkie-talkie before nodding. “Kong is waiting for you.”
He unlocks the door, granting me entry. Rookie move on their part as they haven’t searched me. But I shove past them. The boisterous roars of what awaits me downstairs has me putting on my game face as I unhurriedly walk down the stairs.
When I descend the final step, I see a space that is a lot bigger than I thought. About three hundred men and women stand around two fighters who are covered in sweat and blood. They are both of average size, and I wonder if Kong recruited them, too.
There isn’t a ring. Just a circle of fervent bystanders surrounding the men, eager for bloodshed. The crowd is mixed with people from all walks of life, as it seems there is no discrimination when it comes to seeing someone bleed for money.
Kong is leaning against the back wall, watching on intently. I don’t see Stevie, which leads me to believe he’s more of a behind-the-scenes man. Jaws isn’t here either. I can’t hide my anger over that fact. Brushing past the screaming mob, I make my way toward Kong. It still takes all my willpower not to stab him where he stands. But I rein in my wrath by reminding myself of the greater good.
“Yo,” I say with a nod.
Kong smiles, unfolding his arms. “Holy shit. You found the place. I’m impressed. Most don’t make it this far.”
“I’m not most,” I reply smartly.
“I can see that. You’re up in a few. You can change in there.” He gestures with his chin toward the bathrooms.
I don’t waste a second and walk toward them because being near him for too long fuels the raging inferno within.
I keep my eyes ahead, but suddenly, the hair at the back of my neck stands on end. Turning over my shoulder, I scan my surroundings but don’t recognize any faces, so I continue my walk toward the bathrooms. When I enter, I see a small changing room off to the left. I wouldn’t usually bother, but there is no way I’m fighting with my face exposed. It’s too risky. If Franca gets a sniff of anything illegal, she’ll fry my ass.
Kicking off my boots and socks, I drop my duffel onto the bench and hunt for my things. Stripping out of my jeans, I put on the gym shorts and a long-sleeved top with hood. My face isn’t the only thing recognizable. I need to cover as much of my body as I can.
Walking over to the sink, I turn the faucets to cold and cup the water. Splashing it onto my face and over my head, I look at myself in the cracked mirror. This moment will define everything and kick-start my vengeance.
Bracing the sink, I give myself a pep talk. “Don’t fuck this up.” The medal around my neck catches the dim lighting.
It’s time.
Placing the necklace under my top, I reach for the skull design face shield and position it over my face, ensuring it sits under my eyes. Once it’s in position, I slip on my hood. I tape up my hands, clenching them into fists to ensure I have enough slack. Taking a moment, I admire my new uniform, liking this one a lot better than the one I was stuck with for twelve years.
The elongated teeth on my mask look fucking feral, as though I’m seconds away from eating my opponent alive. And I suppose in some ways, I am. Cracking my neck from side to side, I bounce on the spot to warm up. My entire body is itching for a fight because each breath Kong takes is like spitting on my brother’s grave.
The thought has me clenching my jaw.
A loud roar sounds from outside, hinting the fight is over. It’s my time to shine.
“Tommy?” Kong shouts when he opens the bathroom door. He rounds the corner, and when he sees me in my full getup, he grins. “Fucking hell. You’re going to annihilate Jacko.”
I don’t argue because he’s right. My body is vibrating with violent energy.
I follow Kong out the door, shutting out all outside stimuli to focus on the bald guy who is built like a brick shithouse. He stands in the middle of the room, delivering a quick succession of punches in the air. He’s fast but heavy on his feet.
The crowd parts, allowing us through. So much green is being exchanged left and right. I don’t know who’s the favorite, but I don’t care. When I get within a few feet of Jacko, I shove past Kong, and it’s game on.
Jacko is ready and gets into defense, but I won’t fight fair. There is no fair in what I have to do. I charge forward, slamming my fist into his jaw. He staggers back, shaking his head to clear the fog, but I don’t give him a reprieve.
I’m on him like a pit bull, delivering a combo of punches to his ribs, stomach, and then his face. I connect with whatever part of him I can. He tries to defend himself, but I’
m a feral force and won’t stop. Each time I hit him, the crowd erupts in cheers, exposing their love for bloodshed.
The pandemonium is a drug to me, and I continue circling him, jabbing out and connecting with whatever I can as he tries to hit me. He’s bleeding from a cut above his eye and mouth, but that doesn’t deter him.
Kudos to him.
I duck low when he tries to hit me, but the bastard catches me unaware and kicks me in the ribs. I’m still sore from being stabbed, so I stumble back, winded, which is my bad because Jacko launches forward and punches me in the face. The asshole can pack a punch, and my vision blurs.
“Come on, you fairy. Are you going to fight or suck my dick?”
His repulsive slur incites me, and I soon recover, circling him with fists raised.
We’re dancing a deadly tango as the element of surprise for me is now gone as Jacko learns my moves. Our eyes are locked, watching the other closely, because one wrong move will cost us. Jacko steps forward, attempting to punch me, but I duck low and strike his flank quickly.
A pained oof leaves him, but he soon recovers, and he kicks me once again, this time, in the stomach. I’m propelled backward, only to be pushed back into the “ring” by eager bystanders who won’t be satisfied until one of us is dead.
Jacko punches me in the temple, the nose, and then the chin. He tries to connect with my ribs, but I jump back with a smirk. Blood splashes onto the concrete from my nose, but the crowd can’t see me bleed, thanks to the bandana over my face.
He spits, a splatter of red staining the floor. He’s hurt. The sight is truly beautiful to a fiend like me. I make quick eye contact with Kong who is watching on behind the crowd. He is a tall motherfucker, so he stands out, but when I see his victorious smirk, thinking he’s won because of me…I am possessed with a fury that wants to kill anyone who stands in my way.
Jacko comes at me with a roar, but I use my anger to deliver a combination of punches that sends Jacko staggering backward. I charge forward, hitting any part of his body I can, because with each strike, it takes me closer and closer to seeing Kong dead.
I punch Jacko in the face, knocking out two teeth, and when he sags forward, I deliver an uppercut that sends him soaring through the air. He lands on his back with a thud, and before he can get back up, I dive on top of him, pinning him to the floor as I punch him in the face over and over again.
His head lolls, but I don’t stop. The soft flesh feels like heaven beneath my fists. He stops struggling, hinting he’s out cold, but I still don’t stop. All I can think about is Damian. How he was humiliated, beaten, and bruised for no reason. He died because four motherfuckers decided to play God.
I don’t care who I have to use and abuse to get what I want, and when I lock eyes with Kong, all I want is to see him pay.
With one final blow, I connect with Jacko’s face before coming to a breathless, slow stand. My body is trembling as adrenaline courses through me. Jacko is not getting up anytime soon, which sends the crowd wild. Someone pats me on the back, but I nudge them away, ready to break their fucking hand.
I look down at my clenched, unsteady fists, and the once white tape is now stained a bright red. This is all I know to survive—blood and pain.
“Fuck!” Kong screams to be heard over the manic crowd as he rushes toward me. “You’re one scary ass motherfucker.”
He doesn’t know the half of it.
“Here.” He digs into his pocket and discreetly shoves a wad of cash into my palm. “There’s more where that came from. I’ll call you. The bookies are going to love you.”
I don’t bother sticking around because this first step is enough for now. Kong merely sees me as dollar signs. He bets on the right horse, and I make him rich. Little does he know he’s betting on the wrong horse.
Pocketing the cash, I push my way through the crowd, on the lookout for Jaws, but then a young woman in fancy jewels steps in my path, blocking me. Her red lips tip into a slanted grin, and she whispers into my ear, “Let’s fuck.”
Her candidness catches me by surprise, and I can’t deny the win has left me pumped and ready to blow off some steam. She looks like a rich daddy’s girl who lost her way home, so I toy with the idea. There are no empty promises. We both know what this is.
But I’m not her puppet or a blow-up toy for her to get her rocks off with. And besides, she does nothing to appease this throbbing in my cock because it craves someone else.
Just as I’m about to decline, a flash of pink catches my eye.
Focusing ahead, I see the back of a woman as she shoves her way through the crowd. She has on a cotton candy-colored wig cut in a bob. I don’t know why, but her urgency has alarm bells ringing, and without thought, I chase after her—the predator in me relishes the chase.
When the masses see me coming, they part quickly. They’ve seen me fight. They don’t fancy getting caught in the crossfire. For her, however, no one moves, which allows me to catch up to her quickly. She is almost at the staircase, causing me to hasten my steps. She can’t get away.
But when some asshole tries to congratulate me, blocking my path, he allows the scared little lamb to slip away. I push him aside, continuing the chase, before this woman slips through my fingers. She takes two steps at a time, and all I can see is that she’s wearing sunglasses too big for her face.
She’s clearly trying to disguise her appearance, and the fact she’s running from me has me wondering why. The mystery has the adrenaline surging through me, and it doesn’t take long until I’m following closely behind her.
She fumbles with the handle but, eventually, bursts through the door, almost knocking into the two dickheads manning the entrance to the floor. They try to grab her but fumble because she’s lithe and graceful like a…dancer.
Holy mother of fuck.
I’m hot on her heels, every part of me throbbing in need. She takes a left, which is the wrong fucking way. The hunter in me savors her mishap, and when she sees the corridor is a dead end, she yanks open the closest door and dives for the safety of a room.
She frantically tries to close the door, but I’m too fucking fast and grip the edge, pushing it open. She stumbles back with the force, almost falling onto her ass. I slam the door shut, trapping us both. When she realizes she’s ambushed, she spins, turning her back to me.
Her small shoulders rise and fall quickly as she gulps in lungsful of air. We’re both in disguise, both hiding who we really are. I need to see her to ensure she’s real. With three quickened strides, I’m across the room, gripping her upper arm.
She violently shakes me off, refusing to turn around.
“Why are you here?” I snarl, but my question remains unanswered. Her silence enrages me all the more. “Answer me!”
“Fuck you!” she replies fiercely.
She doesn’t want to play. Well, too bad, because I do—if only she knew just how badly I want to play with her.
She refuses to face me, so with no choice, I tug off her wig. When a cascade of soft brown hair tumbles down her back and the smell of cherry blossoms assaults me, I curse the day our paths crossed.
Her hands frantically attempt to cover her hair, but it’s too late. I know who she is, so now the question is, what will I do?
“Did you follow me?” I ask to her back, which pisses me off as she still refuses to face me. “This will not end well for you if you keep ignoring me. Answer my question.”
Silence.
I am splattered in blood, my face shielded by a menacing skeleton bandana, and she is still not afraid of me. Her courage is so fucking potent, I can’t breathe.
“Turn around,” I demand, and the tremble to her shoulders gives me a shot of the most intoxicating drug. “What do you want from me?”
Even though she won’t answer, it doesn’t deter me from asking her questions.
“Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? Make me understand what you want because I can only offer you pain!” I exclaim, my bloody fists a confirmati
on of this.
This silent treatment is feeding my demons; they demand I make her pay.
“Fine, have it your way then. Maybe I’ll go find someone who does want to talk to me.”
It’s a trigger for her and works like a fucking charm.
She swivels around so forcefully, a breath catches in my throat. I watch as she rips off her sunglasses, exposing those savage green eyes. She gives me one fucking second to process what I see before she storms over to me and rips off my face shield.
I can only imagine what she sees because the sticky blood coating my skin is my warpaint. But she doesn’t recoil. Oh no, Tiger doesn’t cower in the face of fear. She doesn’t recoil—period.
She stands on tippy toes and smashes her lips to mine.
My mouth hinges open, needing a second to get up to speed, but that’s all it needs before I’m kissing the ever-living fuck out of her. Every part of me aches because nothing is gentle about her kisses, but the pain only heightens this depravity within me.
She bites me, clawing at my shirt, while I fist her long hair. Our tongues duel, refusing to surrender to the other because we both want to be alpha. I walk her toward the wall, slamming her against it as I press my chest to hers.
She moans into my mouth, sucking my tongue and biting my bottom lip, and all I taste is bubblegum. The kiss is frenzied and wild, and I can’t stop. I want to fucking eat her alive. Her long hair feels like silk beneath my fingers, which has me remembering I’m touching her with filthy hands.
Breaking the kiss, I stare her in the eye. “Why are you here?”
My blood paints her face, which strokes the caveman within. I’ve fucking marked her, but it’s not enough. With three fingers, I slowly smear my blood across her mouth and cheeks. Now she looks like the fucking warrior that she is.
Tiger licks her lips, no doubt tasting the metallic sting I left behind. “I don’t know,” she finally speaks.
“So you followed me?”
She nods slowly.
“Why? I don’t understand. Help me understand.” I don’t know why she would waste her time on someone like me.
