“Don’t make me say it.” He thinks that because I let Raven go back into that cabin, I saved his life. No matter how many times I tell him it was Raven who’s the hero, not me, he won’t let up.
For the first time since my little pow-wow with Gibbs, my heart rate slows. He wants to return the favor. He doesn’t owe me a thing. But if I was standing in his shoes, I know he’d do it for me.
“Fine. Let’s do this.” I turn and head for the octagon, reminding myself that Layla and Axelle are my priority.
Jonah’s wounds will heal, but the scars my woman carries never will. And the scandalous crap out there is a jagged scalpel that cuts deep.
They can’t take any more. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure they don’t have to.
*
Five minutes later, Jonah and I stand face-to-face in the octagon. Headgear, mouth-guard, and gloves in place, we bump fists. It’s on.
This isn’t about training. This is about burning shit off. Rex hangs nearby, probably to jump in if this gets ugly. And the way I’m feeling right now, shit’s definitely going to get ugly.
My eyes fix on Jonah’s, and my fists burn to make contact. Right now, he’s not my friend. He’s the answer to finding some fucking peace.
We circle around each other, and he waits for me to make the first move. Muscles clenched tight, my mind goes back to the conference room. The headlines. Layla’s body exposed. The UFL’s plan to capitalize on her embarrassment.
I throw my left fist. He dodges. I balance my weight. Flashes of Layla, her big brown eyes shining with tears, fill my mind’s eye. He moves. His arms wrap around my waist. My back hits the mat. I push with my leg, rage fueling my body.
He positions to lock my shoulders. “Fucking shit, man.” His grunted words sound strangled against the force of my hold.
Visions of a faceless man taking Layla against her will flood my range of view.
I flip on him. He’s down. I take full mount and rain punches to his headgear. A tiny voice whispers that this is dangerous. That Jonah can’t hold back once he gets pushed too far. And that’s exactly what I want.
I picture Layla alone at sixteen. Scared. Pregnant. Abandoned.
Anger, frustration, and helplessness swirl behind my chest. I swing my arms, kick my legs, and lock down on limbs. Our movements are a blur. Nothing is coherent, only the sound of our pained grunts filling the silence.
Someone calls to me. I ignore the interruption and push my body harder. More hits. Tighter holds. Another yell. My fists fly. Power infuses every cell. I’m lost in a fog that feels so fucking good.
Left-right-left-right
I’m on fire. Flying high and nowhere close to being finished. The violence rips through my body, doling out punishment. No one will fuck with her again.
I lose my breath. My throat constricts. The voice yells, but it’s distant. My arms are immobile. I’m pinned down. I thrash, fighting to get free.
And then it happens.
I’m fifteen again. Knocked from my bed and kidnapped. Blindfolded and thrown into a car. And all with the permission of the one person who’s supposed to protect me.
The fear is so real. A guttural roar rips from my throat. I throw my body forward, breaking free and swinging hard.
Another voice. Shut the fuck up. I throw a punch. Then another. I hit the floor, face down. Legs, arms, neck, stomach. I can’t move.
“Get off.” I buck against my captors.
The voice repeats until the words break through the haze. “Breathe, brother. Breathe.”
I push and arch my back. The alien rage thrives in search of release.
“This is fucked, Jonah.” Rex’s voice is close, but muffled.
“Shut the fuck up, Rex. Give him some time.”
My muscles kick and tremble. I take a deep breath. Blinking, I remember where I am.
How the hell?
I’m on my stomach. Jonah’s across my shoulders with my hands locked behind my back. And from what I can tell, the dick holding my legs is Rex.
I growl and pull to free my arms.
“Calm down, dude. I’ll let you go when you calm your ass down.” Jonah’s words carry a hint of warning. He’s not messing around.
I take in a few deep breaths to slow my heart, and my muscles relax. What just happened?
“I’m good.” I suck down a shaky breath. “I’m good.”
“All right, Rex… on three…” Jonah counts and they push to standing.
I roll to my back, one knee up, and one hand on my heaving chest. Jonah and Rex are standing a couple yards away, alert and ready. Seriously, what happened?
I push up to sitting and toss my headgear and mouth guard aside. “Why the hell did you dicks—oh shit!”
Rex’s left eye is swollen shut, and there’s a huge cut beneath it.
Jonah’s headgear’s off. He steps close, eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember? I thought we were sparring.” I motion between us. “Why’d you fuckers double team me?”
Jonah drops his gaze to the floor and shakes his head.
I look to Rex. “What?”
“You went fucking nuts, man. You wouldn’t let up on Jonah’s neck. I jumped in, pulled you off, you came after me.”