Page 25 of Riot

So, this thing inside me, this helplessness and impotence, has become a storm that never breaks. It fills every inch of my chest until I can’t breathe, can’t hold it in, and I have to let it out.

That’s when I get lost in the bottom of a bottle. That’s when I throw punches in a busy bar room just to feel pain. That’s when I sink into some nameless face’s cunt.

The release is the only thing that stops me from burning it all down, and fuck, I wanna light that match and watch the carnage.

And that’s why I’m here tonight. I tried to control the hurricane inside me, but every time I can’t help Ivy, it grows bigger, more deadly, and I need to release the pressure before I explode.

So, I chose to lose myself in my torment but in a controlled way. The underground fights held here are protected, and every person stepping into the cage knows the rules of the game.

It’s lawless, and it’s what I needed… or what I thought I needed.

But I don’t feel better.

I don’t feel anything.

I flex my fingers, the broken skin over my knuckles splitting open again. In the shitty lighting, the blood trailing over the back of my hand looks black, almost demonic. It makes sense. There is a darkness inside me, beating against my ribs to come out, and yet the one fucking animal I wish I could hurt is already gone.

“Fuck,” I mutter and lean back against the wall behind me, suddenly tired to my core.

The warehouse empties, and I watch the crowds disperse until a familiar car pulls in through the gates.

I don’t move as he parks up and climbs out the vehicle, scanning until his gaze falls on me. A broken mess. A pathetic creature.

The muscle in his jaw ticks as he steps up to me. He’s gonna lecture me, but he’s wasting his breath.

I don’t give a shit.

Nicky drops to his haunches, his blazing eyes roaming over me.

“You bleedin’ out?” His words are clipped and sharp as daggers.

“No,” I mutter.

“You need a doctor?”

Mace would have been my first call, but there was no way in fuck I was dragging him out of bed for this. Nic’ll give me shit, but Mace’ll flay me alive.

“I’m fine.” I shove his hand away as he reaches for my forehead. “Quit fussin’.”

Nicky glares at me. “You dragged me out here,” he snaps. “Did you at least win?”

I scoff. “Don’t insult me.”

“Fuck me.” His mutter is laced with anger before he stands and offers me a hand.

I let him pull me to my feet, and the movement sends a hundred ice picks stabbing through my ribs.

I hiss between my teeth while the world tilts.

Nicky slides a shoulder under my arm. “You’re a fuckin’ dick.”

“Yeah,” I agree through swollen lips. “Ain’t ever pretended to be anything else.”

Every step across the parking area sends white-hot shards of agony through me. Sweat is running down my neck by the time we reach the vehicle, and I don’t know how I’m still standing as he opens the passenger door.

I take the help, sliding into the seat and waiting while he gets in the driver’s side. I’m lightheaded, and I can feel every bruise now that the adrenaline dump is fading.

Nicky is silent until we’re on the road, heading towards the clubhouse.

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