Page 64 of Filthy and the Beast

I wince. He was in trouble, and I wasn’t there to protect him. Doesn’t matter I had no reason to be there. Doesn’t matter he’s a grown man and he can walk around this city fine on his own. I fucking hate that I wasn’t there.

“You got away?”

“One of the guys got me down, but I scrambled.” Cocking up a wry smile, he gestures to his arm bandage. “The old concrete slip-and-slide.”

Anger starts rising up. “Did you see? Who are they? Tell me where this happened, and I’ll find them.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not like that. I didn’t see their faces anyway. I was walking to the bus from my job interview, and the guys appeared behind me. It happened, but I’m safe. I got away.”

My heart is pounding. “It’s good you got away. I’m grateful. But that’s dangerous. If someone wants your wallet and has you down, you give it to them. No money is worth risking your life.”

Defensive, Damian frowns. “I didn’t really have time to think, okay? I didn’t even manage to deploy my pepper spray.”

It hits me: I’m not frustrated with him. I’m mad at myself. Mad I didn’t keep him safe.

I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You’re smart and fast. I’m not surprised you took care of yourself. And I’m sorry to lecture you. What’s important is that you’re okay.”

Damian smiles, satisfied. “Thank you.”

Considering what I'm about to do, I grind my jaw. But my hangover is throbbing, clouding everything, and there’s no other choice.

Damian cares deeply about taking care of himself, being independent. Self-defense is a piece of that puzzle.

“I’m going to train you,” I say flatly.

Surprised, Damian jerks his head back. “What?”

I go to the coffee. “Never fight unless you have to. But if you ever do, you need something better than the concrete slip-and-slide to defend yourself.”

“I thought you wouldn’t train me under any circumstances?” he asks, confused.

Mulling over my answer, I lick the back of my teeth. Every day I fall off another emotional cliff with him.

“I told you I’ve trained two people. You remember?”

He nods. “I remember.”

“The first was Toby. And if I hadn’t made him a boxer, he wouldn’t be dead today.” I try to swallow it down, but guilt and pain wrench my voice. Watching me, Damian’s scratched face softens with empathy.

My entire body aches. I don’t know how to stand here while someone looks at me this way. He’s the one with the injuries.

“I’ll teach you to fight,” I tell him, “but you can never, ever go near the boxing world. No amateur fights. No local tournaments for fun. Nothing. Got it?”

Damian laughs softly. “Yeah. I think I can promise you that.”

I grunt. I believe him, but I wish it were that easy. He’s nothing like Toby, and he’d never sell out like Hardy, but agreeing to train him reminds me of all the mistakes I’ve made.

“You need a day or two to heal up. We’ll start soon.” I cup his cheek, turning his face to see his wounds clearly. “Let me change your bandages. Apply ointment.”

Damian nods. “Okay.”

My hangover throbs, and my past looms behind me, but I push it all aside.

Damian’s hurt. I’ll take care of him.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

DAMIAN

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