Page 207 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

That and his ambition to help me in his way.

I couldn’t be more grateful. Not just for him watching me all these years but for entering into my life when, deep within, I begged for a moment of peace.

“It’s beautiful, right?” I whisper, not caring that my voice gives me away with how emotional I am.

When Matteo doesn’t reply, I look at him, realizing he’s staring at me with a look full of appreciation.

His free hand leaves mine so he can wipe away the tear that leaves my right cheek.

“Yes,” he agrees and doesn’t stop staring my way. “Beautiful.”

There’s no need to exchange any more words.

I close my eyes, knowing his lips would be the first to claim mine.

31

OUR GLIMPSE OF DESIRE PART I

~MATTEO~

“Target Seven has been eliminated, sir.”

My fists hammer into the punching bag, my breaths coming out swiftly as I proceed to do another combo of punches, burpees, tuck jumps, and high kicks. I move around the hanging bag as if it’s an opponent ready to strike at any moment.

My combinations are fierce, my breathwork tamed to keep encouraging the flow of air into my lungs, and my attention is fully focused on the hanging leather that swings and takes every assault I deliver.

A timer goes off, signaling my stall in my last punching combo. I allow myself to finally breathe normally, feeling the way my lungs burn ruthlessly while sweat drips effortlessly across my drenched body. I’m trembling with adrenaline, needing to breathe deeper and quicker to tame the burning rage of lactic acid rushing through my muscles.

The drumming in my head begins to tame as the whispers and chaos frantically buzz away. Leaning against the punchingbag with my forehead allows me to still myself as I come down from the manic high that stole me from reality.

That thrilling state of mind projects me back into that cage where I could brutally destroy anyone who dared to tamper with my peace.

Silence eventually greets me, my heavy pants now slow and calm. Opening my eyes halfway, I acknowledge the matted floor that’s decorated with my sweat.

I’ve been going at it for an hour, needing to blow some steam, especially when finding out our game is going to be inviting the big leagues to watch and potentially scout players into the NHL. The opportunity is welcomed, but the timing is horrendous. I’ve wished for a chance to integrate back into a form of normalcy for years now, and this NHL opportunity could be the break I need.

It would still have me in the spotlight, but at a different aspect that wouldn’t be questionable. My bulk and cut phases would be expected due to the intense profession that requires you to remain in shape. I’d be privileged to travel and move around without many asking about my business behind the scenes.

The limelight of fame would expand, but I’ve learned how to maneuver between the society of the rich and the rest of the world.

Money talks, bullshit listens.

When I’ve finally calmed down, I grasp what was said to me earlier.

“Seven is out?” I ask for clarification and fix my earpiece. I’m positive Hannah is still on the line.

“Yes, sir,” she reveals. “Also like to update you that Six has succumbed to his injuries.”

That makes me smirk.

“No shit.” It’s laughable to think he’d survive longer than twenty-four hours after I punched the shit out of him. “Hethought he’d survive walking onto Leighton soil with the idea of taking what’s mine under my nose? I think not.”

Out of the three of us, I’m the strongest. No one would be stupid to try to harm anyone around me in my presence.

Well, let me take that back. Six tried and failed miserably. Oh, well. He can enjoy acknowledging that in the afterlife.

“Only three are left,” Hannah concludes. “And Marcus.”

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