Page 18 of Phoenix's Redemption

Our kiss deepened. The world outside faded away as we sought comfort in each other. I took him into my bedroom. There, clothes were shed, and as we made love, it was more than just a physical act. It was two people finding peace in each other. Each touch, every kiss, whispered of understanding and a recognition of the scars we each carried on our bodies and hearts.

I allowed myself to get lost in the connection. We moved together, chasing a release that was as much emotional as it was physical.

Afterwards, the quiet hum of the city outside barely registered as I lay cradled in the crook of Liam’s arm. His heartbeat was a soothing drum.

"I didn't know if I could ever let someone in," his low murmur vibrated through me.

"Me neither. But with you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.” I let the vulnerable words flow from my heart.

We lay there, our breathing synchronizing, the weight of our pasts somehow lighter since we shared them. The night pressed on outside, but in here, it couldn't touch us. This moment was ours alone.

"Get some rest, Sophie," Liam whispered as we lay together, sheets tangled. “You’ll need it to help me get in gear tomorrow.”

Drifting on the edge of sleep, my last conscious thought was a promise. A vow to keep this peace we'd discovered, and to protect it with everything I had. From Jack. From the world. In Liam's arms, I wasn't just safe. I was home.

Chapter Eight

LIAM

Ileft Sophie's place when the sun came up. As I stepped outside, the morning light barely took the edge off the night's chill. The taste of her goodbye kiss stayed on my lips. It was sweet, but a sour twist of guilt gnawed at my gut for attention. I wanted to stay close to her, yet I needed to protect her from my past. How was I going to do that if I couldn’t keep my hands off her?

Answers weren’t going to come to me just from walking outside. For the time being, I had to shake off the discomfort of not having a solution. I headed towards home for a quick shower before going to Silverback Gym, another facility where MMA fighters liked to train.

From outside, I could hear the clanging of old free weights being dropped on the worn out mats of the concrete floor. I pushed open the door of the plain grey building.

The place was already buzzing. Bodybuilders grunted before mirrors, sweating under the strain of each lift. Fighters from the MMA world circled the mats and cages.

If Warrior’s Den was state-of-the-art with all its hydromassage chairs and saunas, Silverback Gym was old school. This was no polished, commercial establishment with juice bars. Silverback was raw, stripped back to the essentials. Everything here screamed endurance, from the scuff marks on the floor to the duct tape holding together battered punchingbags. It spoke of hard work and harder knocks, an atmosphere that had never failed to get my blood pumping.

Gripping my duffel bag tighter, I headed straight for one of the punching bags. I had work to do, demons to silence, and nothing—not my bum ankle, wrist, or even the bad memories of a past I wanted to forget—would keep me from the fight.

My fists pounded the heavy bag for the first several minutes. I switched to light kicks on my good leg before resuming jabs and hooks. Soon, sweat drenched my shirt.

"Still trying to punch away your sins, O'Connor?"

The sneer was unmistakable, curling around me like smoke. I froze mid-punch, my knuckles cramped in my gloves.

"Jack," I spat his name out like poison as I turned to face him. He reclined against the doorway. Time in jail only enhanced the lean hungry way he looked. Although on the wiry side, there was always something about the way he carried himself that made him seem like he would spring forward into violence without warning. I kept my cool even as adrenaline pumped through my system. "What do you want here?"

Jack's laugh was a raspy rumble. "I'm just enjoying the show.” He surveyed the rest of the gym before sizing me up head to toe. “You put on a little muscle weight. You’ve come a long way from fighting in the streets, kid.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same about you.”

“I’ve been working on myself.”

“You mean, while you were locked up?”

“It counts.” He peeled himself away from the wall, letting his arms fall to his sides. “I admit, I haven’t had a chance to do all the things you’ve done. Fancy gear.” He glanced at my gloves and duffel bag. “I see you on TV. You even got your own trainer. Since when do they come with firm, tight little—"

"Shut your fucking mouth," I growled. The air between us crackled. My fingers curled at my sides, itching for a fight. “Don’t say one more thing about Sophie.”

"Or what?" he taunted, revealing the smirk that twisted his drawn features. "You'll turn me in? Oh wait, you already did that."

His smirk grew wider, a predator baring its teeth. “We're not so different, Liam. You'll see.”

My voice was a low snarl, each word wrapped in barbed wire. "Don't ever mistake me for someone like you."

The words hung between us. My heart hammered in my chest, a drumbeat urging me toward violence. I wanted to hit something, that something being a six foot ex-con who thought he could put Sophie’s name in his mouth.

---