Page 6 of Cruel Devotion

“You think I’m going to let a book of rules dictate how you and I proceed with Monique?”

“Unless you give her an official title, I and any other man can pursue her. Those are the rules of the East.”

Seething, I took a step forward. “Did Banks hit you so hard today that you cracked your fucking mind? Step aside!”

Duck glared at me.

I stiffened. “Cousin, do not make me hurt you more than necessary.”

“Could you love her?”

The question was more than just words. It was a knife, digging into wounds not yet healed. It forced me to confront emotions that I had carefully tucked away behind walls of sorrow and memories.

The mere thought of opening up to someone new, especially after losing someone I loved so deeply, felt like a betrayal.

Grief was a haunting specter, casting shadows on any newfound joy or affection.

Yet, Monique’s presence brought a warmth, a pull that I couldn’t deny. She evoked feelings that I hadn’t expected, desires I hadn’t anticipated.

It was as if two forces were warring within me—the sacredness of past love and the undeniable allure of a new beginning.

Chen cleared his throat. “Okay. I think this is a good place to stop. Tonight let us all have our space—”

“You can’t answer the question.” Duck touched his chest. “But I could answer the question on if I could love Monique.”

“I don’t need you to answer it.”

“But I could love her.” Duck’s gaze brightened. “I really could. Every day too. Never would she wonder if my heart wasn’t hers.”

“That’s enough.”

“You couldn’t promise the same.”

“That’s a fucking enough!” I charged for him again.

This time, Duck was more than ready. With a feral growl, he lunged forward, catching me off guard. His fists, like bolts of lightning, flew at me, left and right.

I managed to deflect most of his blows, but one solid punch landed on my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me.

Stumbling back, I gritted my teeth and tried to regain my composure, but he was relentless.

He followed up with a spinning kick, aiming for my head.

Barely ducking in time, I felt the rush of air as his foot passed just above me.

Son of a bitch.

Seizing the moment, I tackled him, trying to pin him down, but he was agile, wriggling out of my grasp.

We were a whirlwind of motion, each trying to gain the upper hand.

The Arena of Echoes reverberated with the sounds of our struggle.

Our bodies collided into a high-octane battle, both of us engaging in a fierce exchange of blows. Years of rigorous training on this very mountain had honed our bodies and reflexes, transforming us into formidable opponents.

My every punch was met with a block, every kick with a dodge.

Likewise, every move Duck made, I was there to parry.

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