Page 30 of Tech

Liv nearly fucking died. She had a knife sticking out of her leg when she tackled Cherrie to the floor, and then shot Kallie, killing her, for fuck’s sake.

No one noticed how badly she was injured; Smokey was lying on the floor unconscious, with blood near his head, which was the only thing everyone saw.

"Doc! She's fucking crashing…."

I can still hear Snake's shout.

Breaker sighs. "She fucked up your system, brother. She knew where to find it, and even though we have no proof, we both know Nina told her, and Brook…. You'll get your girl back, brother."

I shake my head, anger hitting me again, and I step back, punching the bag, grunting. "How can Momma accept her back?" Left, right, left, right. "I don't fucking understand it."

Left, right, left, right—kick

"Brother," he drawls, and I grab the bag again, placing my forehead against it.

I mutter, "I feel like I can't fucking breathe, Alex. It's been a week, and she won't answer my calls. Our brother has lost his memory, and all I can think about is how to get my girl to fucking talk to me. I made her my old lady; she's technically married to me in the eyes of the club, and she won't fucking talk to me."

Breaker is quiet for a moment before I feel the floor of the ring bounce, and I look to see him removing his shirt.

He nods to the bag. "That's not going to do fuck all for you, brother. Take it down; I'll spar with you."

I nod, grateful, and do as he says. I chuck the bag on the floor outside of the ring, and turn back to him.

He wiggles his arms and mutters, "Fuck, this is going to hurt," making me smirk because, yeah, it most likely will.

I run at him as he gets ready, cursing himself out for climbing into the ring with me. I was the top fighter five years in a row, before I retired from bare-knuckle fighting. When I was seventeen, I took up martial arts, and it helped with my fighting techniques, helping me become the champion.

Fuck, it's times like this I wish I continued fighting.

I swing my left fist at Breaker, and he ducks, sending his right toward me. I bounce to the side, dodging it, and grab his wrist, then kick his gut, making him grunt.

"Fuck, Tech."

I ignore him, bringing my right fist around, and punching him in the face.

He stumbles back before squaring his footing, then rushes toward me. His left fist connects with my jaw, and I fucking relish the pain as he lifts his left leg, his foot connecting with my side.

I grin as we get into it with our fists—left, right, left, right. His fist hits my eye, splitting my brow, and mine hits his lip, splitting it open.

For the first time today, I feel like I can breathe just a little bit.

Half an hour, that's how long we go at it, before I punch him in the stomach, and he stumbles back, gasping, "Fuck, brother…."

I breathe hard, knowing he's had enough despite knowing I could go longer. My side hurts, my brow is dripping with blood, and I'm pretty sure I might have broken a knuckle, but I'm nowhere near done.

This past week has fucking sucked!

"She'll call, brother. Didn't Peter say she got in last night?" Breaker rasps, gasping in between breaths.

I furrow my brows at him. "Please tell me I didn't break your rib."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good; usually, when I hit things, they remain still, brother."

I sigh in relief. "Good, I don’t want to do that again."

He chuckles. "Yeah, pretty sure Tats was ready to skin you alive when you broke his."

I huff out a chuckle, unwrapping my hands. "It's not my fault he didn't block his right side. I told him to find someone else to help him improve his defense skills."

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