Page 80 of The Enforcer

He sent her home with Achilles.

All she wanted was to wrap her arms around her husband, make sure he was okay, but he didn’t even talk to her after the fight.

After she installed her sister in the guest room—Gina was in no shape to be yelled at, though she really wanted to—the waiting started.

It was past midnight. As she lay in bed, waiting for Hector, she thought about going to the compound. She had a feeling he was there, pounding a punching bag. She decided against it, to give him time to cool off.

Another hour had passed when she finally heard Hector come home. It took another hour to realize he wasn’t coming upstairs. She got out of bed and went looking for him.

She noticed that not a single light was on downstairs. Pulling the cord around her nightgown tighter, she walked down the hallway and into the living room. A dark figure was standing in front of the window near the deck. Hector had one arm braced against the top of the windowsill. Even though he must have heard her approach, he didn’t move.

“Hector,” she said softly.

He turned around slowly and faced her.

“What did I tell you about sleeping apart?” she said.

He chuckled, a bitter sound. “Don’t. Not tonight.”

The rage emanating from him was like a wall. A wall she was determined to penetrate. There was only one reason for him to be this upset. She just wanted him to admit it. If it wasn’t to her, then at least to himself.

She looked up into his storming eyes. “Please talk to me.”

A pulse jumped in his jaw. “If you knew about the things I want to do to you… Run, gorgeous. Run, before I hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.”

“Did you not see me tonight? Did you not hear what they called me?”

“I saw you, and I heard them. And I don’t care.” Her husband was no beast, no matter his nickname.

He grabbed her hair, pulling her close. “You should,” he snarled. “I want to hurt you. I want to turn you over my lap and blister your ass so bad, it will have a permanent mark of my hand. I want to beat you, so you will never, ever do something this stupid again. And don’t fucking tell me you couldn’t leave your sister behind. See, that’s whatIdon’t fucking care about.” His grip tightened.

She refused to cower. It felt as if this moment, right here, would be their breaking or making point.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” His grip tightened, almost to the point of pain. “Because I really want to. I want to unleash myself on you. You’re not allowed to get yourself hurt. You are not allowed to fucking… scare me like that.”

He roared that last part. She wondered if he knew he was yelling at her. She didn’t believe he did, but was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

His grip loosened, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he yanked her close to him. She could see the golden swirl at the edge of his pupils. They were like orbs of green fire.

“What would Zoe do without you?” His roar had changed into a soft tone.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are her whole life. Her whole fucking life!”

And… the roar was back.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, unsure of what else to say. She had never seen him this unhinged before.

“I never wanted you to see me like that,” he admitted, looking away. “There’s this thing a cage does to you. Even when you get out as a victor instead of being dragged out, it’s difficult to shuck the feeling.”

“I know you didn’t like to fight in there.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, I went in voluntarily.” He finally let go of her hair. “Nobody gets to hurt what’s mine and walk away. Brian knew exactly what he’d get when he got me in that cage. They nicknamed me The Beast because Iwasone once I got in a fight. Sometimes I didn’t even go looking for one; it found me just because I was big for my age. Like in the old days, in the Wild West, when you carried a gun and people challenged you because you were expected to know how to use it. Thing is, you can take a gun off, but I couldn’t hide my large frame.”

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