Page 84 of Wrecked for Love
Saxum launched the first punch, his muscles tensing like a drawn bow. Elia, nimble and quick, expertly dodged his every move, a dance of evasion and defense.
“Come on, coward,” Saxum taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “Don’t you want to show how much your little sparrow means to you?”
Elia remained unfazed, refusing to take the bait. He continued to dodge and block, clearly aiming to wear down Saxum.
Moments turned into an eternity as Elia skillfully avoided each blow. But then, Saxum’s patience cracked. He launched a vicious punch that landed on Elia’s abs. The sound of impact echoed through the arena, causing me to scream in horror.
Lucien and his men erupted into laughter, their cruel amusement mingling with Saxum’s guttural guffaws reverberating like the growl of a beast from the depths of hell.
“That’s for messing with my brother!” Lucien sneered at Elia, then turned his attention to me, a wicked grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “Paying for your girl’s sins? How noble of you, El. Nothing like a good hero moment, right, boys?”
Laughter erupted around us as Elia pulled himself up. Back on his feet, he spat out the blood from his mouth and prepared himself for another round. This time, he took the offensive. He landed a few hits on Saxum, aiming for different vulnerable spots, but they seemed to have little impact.
Then, a blow to Elia’s face caused him to stagger back, but he managed to regain his balance. The fight continued with both fighters exchanging blows, and Elia’s composure seemed to unsettle Saxum as his movements became less bold. But soon, Saxum let loose his greatest weapon—his sheer size. He pounced on Elia like an enraged elephant, and Elia’s back thudded against the unforgiving surface of the stage. Unlike a bouncy ring, this floor was carpeted but offered no cushioning.
“That’s for the sins of your father and the fathers before you,” Lucien drawled, his voice thick with old hatred.
Saxum yanked Elia’s arm, pulling him to his feet with a grin that said he was just getting started with this little game.
What followed was a one-sided, brutal fight.
“Stop it!” I cried out.
Every blow that struck Elia might as well have hit me. The physical pain wasn’t mine, but the ache inside? It was all too real, enough to bring tears to my eyes.
So this was Lucien Voss’s idea of breaking me. I wasn’t just a spectator anymore. He’d made me a participant, turning Elia’s suffering into my own.
“Stop it, please!” I begged Lucien, my voice trembling with desperation. The look of satisfaction on his face was unmistakable even in the dim space, a cruel delight that fueled his sadistic desires. Each minute felt like an eternity, the pain seeping into every fiber of my being as I watched the grotesque spectacle unfold before me.
Elia was repeatedly knocked down by Saxum, whose towering figure seemed to relish in the act of bringing him to the ground. It was a vicious cycle of torment and agony, like Elia was his plaything. Saxum was killing him, and I had to do something.
I sank my teeth into the hand of the guard to my left, and with a swift and forceful kick, I struck the groin of the other guard, sending him crumpling to the ground. I had freed myself, and without hesitation, I rushed to Elia’s side.
Saxum barely moved. He just dipped his head slightly, his cold eyes tracking my every move. They brimmed with confidence, as if he were ready to claim his prize—me.
“You fight me, you fucking monster!” I spat, rage and desperation spilling over. I forced myself to stand tall and even took a few steps forward, trying to create some space between him and Elia. But Saxum just laughed—a low, chilling sound—clearly amused by my struggle, as if he had all the time in the world to watch me suffer.
I rushed to Elia and kneeled beside him. He managed to lift his head just a little, his body slack and unresponsive.
“Claire, what the hell are you doing?” Elia pants in horror.
My hand hovered over his battered form, my fingers tracing the few spots that weren’t swollen or bruised—at least, not yet.
“Water!” I screamed at Lucien. “Give me some fucking water!”
One of the guards tossed me a bottle, and I snatched it up. Meanwhile, Saxum wandered to a corner and casually took a long drink from his own bottle as if this was nothing more thana game. But as I watched him drink, a flicker of hope sparked inside me. Perhaps it was a sign he was wearing down, that even he had limits.
“Drink, baby,” I whispered, bringing the bottle to his cracked lips. He tried to gulp it down, but his mouth struggled to keep up, and some of the water spilled over his chin. But even that small effort seemed to help. His eyes cleared a little, and color returned to his face.
“Claire, get back!” Elia stammered. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t leave him to face this alone. He groaned and pushed himself between me and Saxum, using every ounce of his strength to shield me from the ogre.
“Claire,” he rasped, “step away…and don’t ever come back on this stage.”
“You heard him, little sparrow,” Saxum mocked, his voice dripping with malice. “I’m not fighting you. I have my pride, you know. Fucking you? Maybe. It wasn’t in the contract, but hey, all contracts are negotiable.” His gaze shifted toward Lucien, a silent message passing between them.
I hung on to Elia’s arm, not prepared to let go of him.
“I’ve got this, Chili,” Elia gritted out.
