AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Isaac still hadn’t stopped trying to recruit me as one of his girls. I’d rather slit my throat than let that creep pimp me out. Becoming a whore at fifteen was not my idea of surviving.
“Stop screwing around, Lisa,” I yelled at the girl. “Come at me or forfeit.”
Spectators leaning over the second-story balcony of the rundown warehouse cheered as the girl shook her arms and headed in my direction. More people gathered on the ground floor, drinking cheap beer and filling the space with cigarette smoke. Remy wouldn’t let them smoke weed or other drugs in case it affected the fighters.
Lisa scowled, flicked her braids, and shouted a few insults, but the fear in her dark eyes gave her away. She knew she wouldn’t win this. She just wasn’t sure how to get out of it without looking like a coward.
The memory shifted and unveiled another fight in the same warehouse months later. I’d turned sixteen by then and had become even better.
I slammed my knuckles against the other fighter’s cheek and then ducked to miss his fist. My elbow crushed into his ribs, and I kicked his knee. A jagged cry tore from his mouth as he stumbled to the ground. I charged, but he rolled to the end of the makeshift ring, and the crowd booed.
“Are you really that much of a bitch you have to run from me?” I grinned, my teeth covered in blood. “Can’t you take a loss like a man?”
Griffin staggered up and wiped sweat and blood from his face with his arm. His lips curled into a sneer as he stepped back into the ring. “Don’t worry, Tate. I know how to take a loss, but can you?”
I scoffed. “I haven’t lost a fight yet.”
His laugh crawled down my back like a swarm of bugs. “I’m not talking about the fight. I’m talking about that cute little kid who’s always hanging around you. What’s her name?” He snapped his fingers. “Jayla.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth before I break every tooth.” I punched his shoulder, but he saw it coming and angled away to lessen the blow.
“Isaac’s been eyeing her lately.” He shook his stringy black hair back and licked blood off the corner of his mouth. “She’s, what, thirteen? Such a young, tender age and those rich fucks will pay a lot of money for her sweetness.”
My gut heaved at the images his disgusting words shoved into my mind. “Stay the hell away from her.”
“Did I touch a weak spot, Tate?” He rubbed his crotch. “I bet Isaac will let me break her first.”
A cloud of crimson consumed me, and all my thoughts turned to one thing. Violence. Plain and simple.
No one would harm that little girl while I was around. I’d stop them, kill them if I had to.
My fist snaked out, connecting with his face so hard the crunch of cartilage and bone echoed like a gunshot.
I didn’t stop. My other fist delivered a left hook to his cheek, and then I rammed an uppercut into his jaw. Another crack resonated, and Griffin screamed.
That didn’t stop me either.
I crushed my knee into his ribs, and he doubled over, giving me an open shot again. My fists pummeled him from the left and right as ringing filled my ears instead of the crowd’s shouts. My knuckles split and tore open, but I felt no pain.
Only violence.
He would not touch Jayla. He would not ruin her like countless others had been. Like I had been.
Bones crunched under my hits. Griffin fell, and my knees scraped the ground as I went after him. Arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me up, pulling me away from my opponent.
“He’s done, Tate! He’s done.” Remy’s voice did nothing to quell the murderous rage. It had me by the throat, choking all the sense and humanity from me.
I struggled in his grasp, kicking and screaming, fighting to get back to Griffin to ensure he would never touch Jayla.
Remy whipped me around, his dark chocolate eyes so wide they could have swallowed me whole. “Are you trying to kill him?”
“Yes!” That was my intention, even if it wasn’t clearly laid out in my head. Death was the only surefire way to keep him away from Jayla. Maybe I needed to kill Isaac too.
Remy glanced over his shoulder, and a string of Spanish spewed out of his mouth. “I think you did.”
I stopped fighting, and he let me go except for his hand around my upper arm. Griffin was sprawled on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp. He didn’t move.
Was he even breathing?
