Page 19 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

I exhaled a shuddering breath; they were here for him, not for me. Then fear gripped me even more tightly. If I were left alone, they might come while he was out. Or maybe Donal would sneak in to finish what he had started.

A tattooed hand found mine beneath the blanket, and I gasped as he placed a hunting knife and a fresh pair of socks into it. I pulled the blanket down as he stood, his eyes searching mine.

I’ll be back. I won’t let them hurt you again.

That’s what his eyes said, even if it was all in my head.

He left the bunker, and I stared at the socks, trying to understand that man. Was Donal wrong? If Monster was incapable of caring, why give me these? I lifted the knife, studying it. I imagined gliding it across Donal’s throat, watching the glorious blood trickle down his chest. Part of me hoped he’d dare to pay me a visit, just so I could christen this beautiful gift.

Crossing A Line

Someone touched her who wasn’t me.

I braced my forearms on my knees and stared at the concrete floor. With the headphones on, I couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd, but I could feel them through the floor’s vibrations beneath my feet. I stretched my fingers against the knuckle tape already in place as the doctor set his metal tray down beside me. I glanced at the prepared syringe, already filled with that thick, dark liquid that awakened the vicious thing living inside me—hungry and impatient for brutality.

They called the illegal mix of steroids and adrenaline RM-7. Raw Mercy. But there was nothing merciful about it. It made me sharper, faster, and unstoppable, but it also took away pieces of me. Memories and sensations. It stripped me of the last shreds of humanity I had left without it.

The needle embedded itself in my hip. I didn’t react, even as the familiar addictive burn spread through my veins.

The doctor held up his hands in front of my face, counting down on his fingers. Heat flooded my spine, climbing vertebra by vertebra.

Someone touched her who wasn’t me. I shouldn’t care.

I closed my eyes, but all I saw was the red mark on her cheek, the cut on her bottom lip, fresh with blood, and her hazel eyes brimming with pain.

My hands trembled. My breathing slowed. The ache in my ribs vanished. The drug didn’t heal me; it only numbed me. The injuries were still there, but the pain no longer mattered. When only three fingers were in front of my face, I felt myself sinking into darkness. My pupils swallowed the light, and the world around me narrowed into a long, black tunnel.

Normally, that made me hyper-focused on my target; on the opponent in the cage, waiting for his death. But tonight, my mind was too preoccupied.

Someone touched her who wasn’t me.

A soldier released the shackles from my ankles, which had bound me to the metal bench. The handcuffs on my wrists clattered to the floor. I stood up, every muscle in my body turning to solid iron. The door opened, and I followed the guards out, muscle memory guiding me down the dark corridor towards the large arena.

The headphones were yanked off at the last moment, and noise exploded around me, making me clench my teeth so hard I nearly dislodged my jaw. My opponent was already pacing the circular cage, punching the air to show dominance and roaring for the crowd. I clocked the knee injury he was trying to hide. I watched his right shoulder dip before each punch, exposing his weakness.

My name was announced to the arena. Monster. The reigning champion. The fighter snarled at me, but I didn’t snarl back. I just stared at him, slowly making my way to the cage. The cage door shut behind me, and he charged.

Dodging his attack, I landed a blow to his right side, then kicked him in the chest. He hit the wire fencing, bounced off it, and came straight back at me. Anticipating his next move, I side-stepped again, grabbed his raised foot, and twisted until it snapped. He dropped to the floor in agony, rolling away from me.

The crowd went mental. Lifting my gaze, I scanned their faces until I found the one I was looking for. McKenna sat in his VIP box at the back, surrounded by his men and grinning as he puffed on his cigar. He gave me a curt nod, a subtle command to end him.

Kill.

Every impulse in my body was conditioned to obey.

But someone touched her who wasn’t me.

I didn’t move. My muscles screamed. My fists clenched. But I didn’t move. I narrowed my eyes at McKenna, watching his eyebrows furrow in response to my disobedience.

The other fighter was standing again, hobbling on one foot towards me. He swung his fist at my face. I took the hit. My nose bled from the impact, but I felt nothing. The blows kept coming, harder and faster, and I stood there, taking them all. The only man I was fighting was myself, letting it happen so I could make a fucking point.

He let someone touch her who wasn’t me.

McKenna was on his feet, roaring his one-word command that had never failed before.

“Kill! Kill! Fuckin’ kill him, Monster!”

My back slammed into the wire, my arms hanging at my sides, fists clenched as I held back everything. My body vibrated, and my vision blurred as I fought the urge to give in to the pressure building all around me. Punches and kicks hammered my body, breaking bones and splitting skin. It felt as if the vessels in my eyeballs were about to explode from the need for blood.