Page 8 of Facing the Music

“He shouldn’t have been back here. How did he not get the previous message when the twins rearranged his fucking face?” The man fists his hands at his sides, seething despite having just been in the ring. His blue eyes glow with fury, his lip curling upin a snarl. I can see his need to punch Beck again, so I hook a finger into his shorts and pull him flush against me. It takes him a few moments to calm down before he presses his forehead against mine. “I hate that you’re all twisted up in this, you know?”

“It’s paying for school. Besides, Walt is the one who owes me the most money. He keeps saying he’ll get it to me but I know that isn’t true. I just don’t have any cash to cover it.” It wasn’t a problem when I first started this venture. There also weren’t that many people placing bets on the few fighters brave enough to step into that ring.

Cairo places his hands on my waist, drawing me into a slow kiss. “Love, why didn’t you say anything? I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“It’s been this bad for a while but you’re one of the fighters. It’s not your problem.” I need to put my game face back on so Paval and Cairo aren’t constantly figuring out that I’m not at my best. I push against him, sitting him down so I can survey the damage to his face. He always cops a few hits but I know now that it’s on purpose—as if he needs or craves the pain to feel better. “One day, one of those hits are going to really hurt you.”

He barks out a bitter laugh as I grab the first aid kit from one of the cabinets. “It gives me a reason not to think about anything else, Tia.” Beck groans as he sits up, holding the half of his face that Cairo connected with. Cairo starts forward, a fist raised, the law student scurrying from the room without another word. He’ll be back if I don’t have his funds after tonight, though. So will the few others. If this gets any worse, I’ll be ousted from my little job and chased off campus.

I pull out the anesthetic cream and a few wipes to clean the cuts on Cairo’s forehead. “I know you’re trying to find a way to not talk about things but maybe that’s what you need?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “How was dinner with Paval and his fathers? See? That smile on your face. You needed it more than you thought. You probably got a big hug from your uncle and happy chatter during dinner. Do you know what happened when I went home a few days ago?” Cairo drags his shirt up to show a healing bruise.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because I didn’t tell you. You didn’t need to know. So yes, sometimes I like the pain because then I can immediately throw a punch back at the person who gave it to me. In some fucked up world, I imagine it’s my father and I can finally tell him how much I fucking hate his rules and everything else he requires of me.” He lowers his shirt as I start dabbing at his forehead. “I don’t tell you things because you have enough shit on your plate.”

My shoulders fall as I patch Cairo up, this beautiful, tortured man caring about me enough not to unload his nightmares on me. Unfortunately, that won’t stop mine from unfolding. “My mother is getting out on early release.”

In a second, I’m wrapped up against his chest, Cairo’s lips pressed to my forehead. “You just can’t get a break, can you? There’s a protective order on her so she can’t get to you. I’ll put out a few feelers to make sure she isn’t anywhere near the campus, alright?”

“She won’t abide by a fucking order. The bitch tried to kill her own brother to get me back. So did my other uncle. I just need it to all go away.” I curl up tighter against him, hiding my face in his sweaty chest. I’ll die before I let him know that I enjoy the scent of his musk. I still need him to shower, but I don’t mind moments like these. “Can I come over tonight?”

Cairo chuckles, running his nose along my forehead. “I was sure you’d ask Paval to keep you company.”

“He… needs some time, I think. He freaked out, saying he couldn’t protect me when he found out about my mother. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“He’s not fragile, Tia.”

“No. He’s not. But things he can’t immediately wrap his brain around, terrify him a little and I’m not trying to add to the chaos.” In hindsight, maybe I should have checked on him before coming over here but it’s a moot point now. Someone walks into the back room, a name that shouldn’t be on anyone’s lips spreading through the crowd. “Why are they chanting Kolas?” I push into the main area, horrified to see Paval standing in front of the man who cornered me in the library today.

Cairo comes to stand behind me, suddenly on alert. “Does Paval even know how to fight? Fuck, that guy will kill him.” Cairo rushes forward seconds before Paval throws a right hook into the man’s chin, causing him to stumble back into the ropes. The crowd hushes and I slowly approach the ring, terrified at the expression plastered on Paval’s face.

His eyes are wild, his hair plastered to his face, a demonic grin spread across his lips. I should have fucking known that he was going to either snap or have another panic attack. To this extent, however, I wasn’t expecting.

Because the man currently on that stage isn’t a Paval I recognize.

Chapter eight

PAVAL

The adrenaline pumping through my veins is like a drug I never want to stop taking. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, sweat pouring down my back as my opponent growls at me. I love that his anger is directed solely at me, his large movements making it easier to move out of the way. However, I’m not seeing him. I see Ada—Tia’s mother—the woman who is the reason for all of this. I see the pictures my fathers have shown me over the years staring back at me, a woman who believes she is owed access to her child.

The thought of rearranging her face excites me, even if in real life, I’ll never get that close. “Come at me, Ada,” I whisper, blinking through a trail of blood that runs down my face. I relish in the pain, loving when my opponent’s face twists in horror as I lick the blood from my lip.

“It’s Heath, you asshole. Everyone thinks you’re so fucking strong but you’re just crazy, aren’t you?”

Those words might hurt someone but not me. I understand my obsessions and the violence I crave. It’s no secret to me or my fathers that I’m wired slightly differently. Hell, even Tia knows that I’m always looking out for her in a way that would make most people probably call the police. She doesn’t know about this side, though.

She wants me to still see her as the angel I believe she is. Well, I hope she never sees me as the devil that I am.

To my opponent’s words, I merely tilt my head and crack a wider smile, waiting for him to charge. This will only work if he continues to attack. My head hurts too much to duck and weave to throw a punch on the inside. Of course, my opponent is stupid enough and charges as I stick the memory of Ada’s face on his, letting my anger and helplessness charge my fists.

Each connection with his face and chest brings me joy, the grunts flying from his stupid lips drawing a cackle from the depths of my soul. Blood clouds my left eye’s vision but I don’t stop, dancing around this monster of a man that I’ve forced to embody everything I feel about Ada. “You think you could just come back for your daughter? Just thought slipping in here to take her from me would work? You should know better than that when it didn’t work twenty years ago. When your stupidity got you caught.” My opponent grows increasingly confused by my rambling but it’s not his job to understand.

It's just his job to fall to the ground.

Which isn’t happening.

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