Page 91 of Raze
Dane hasn’t asked me about the names or accusations yet. I’m both surprised and relieved at his patience, but I know I can’t keep hiding it from him forever. He’s going to want an explanation about what she meant.
Killing GE goons who kidnap and harm children is one thing.
But anyone else? An ex-boyfriend and his friends? Innocents?
It’s unforgivable.
She’s dangerous.
Terrorist.
Monster.
Villain.
You’re worthless.
The words circle in my head on a loop, taking bites out of me with every round. My lungs tighten, and I gasp for air, stumbling forward because I can’t let myself stop and fall apart where anyone can see me. My legs move on autopilot, taking one step after another even though my entire body feels numb to the motion.
Then my face impacts with something warm and hard, and all my momentum halts before I’m ready.
“Where do you think you’re going, beautiful? It’s your turn,” Kellan says. His hands grasp my upper arms to steady me, and I stiffen in his hold. “Hey.” He tries to tilt my face up to look at his, but I don’t want him to see whatever broken expression is on there and jerk it away.
He growls and grabs my face to make me look at him, and anger sparks in my chest at him for not letting me run away. “Let me go,” I snarl, shoving at his chest. His hand on my arm drops behind my back to draw me closer to him instead.
“Never. You don’t get to run from me, beautiful. I already told you that you have me. I’m yours whether you want me or not, so don’t you fucking dare try to hide from me. You got a problem with me? I’ll fix it. Got a problem with someone else? I’ll ruin their fucking day, their year, theirlife,until it makes you happy. So, tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.”
His words are like a balm on my aching soul, and the anger melts enough to make me pause. I gnaw on my lip in thought. Should I tell him what happened? Or will that just open up more questionsthat I’d have to answer?
“Come on. Let’s move to the training room.” He shifts me around with his arm and leads us out of the open living area before either Dane or Aiden can walk in, and I’m grateful he realized I wouldn’t want either of them seeing me right now.
He grabs a roll of gauze and sets it in my hand. “Wrap up. You can talk and train at the same time.”
I take it, letting the familiar action of wrapping my hands set me more at ease. I draw a long breath once I’m done and seek out Kellan in the room.
He smacks the punching bag in the corner twice and then curls two fingers back to summon me over to him. “We’ll start with the bag first. Pretend whoever or whatever upset you is right here. You can say or do whatever you want to them until you get it all out. If you have any energy left after, then you and I will keep working on your handwork.”
I shift my legs apart in my fighting stance, internally pleased when he doesn’t kick them immediately to show that I went too wide or too narrow, and raise my hands into fists in front of me. I stare at the large black punching bag that’s bigger than me and picture Aiden.
I hear the insults that glide from his tongue as easily as breathing. I picture the contempt on his face or the hatred in his dark eyes when he looks at me. The way he gets close to me, setting my heart racing and my thoughts spiraling before he knocks me down again.
It’s worse with him than anyone else. His words don’t just burrow under my skin. It’s the way I react to him and how he seems completely oblivious to it. To me. His words wrap around me in thatsmooth-as-chocolate cadence, lulling me into a sense of safety before he drives the needle home and leaves me devastated on the floor.
And still, every time he draws me in, I fall for it. Again and again. Like some masochistic sheep who craves the pain just as much as this stupid dream of acceptance from him.
My fists pummel the bag in different routines of strikes that Kellan has taught me in our nightly sessions. He stands behind it, holding it still for me as I go, but shouting out corrections that I hear more as a faraway echo while my own thoughts are at the forefront of my mind.
“Harder! Straighten your back! Use your legs! Don’t drop that hand!”
I make the adjustments as he calls them out, but I don’t let them interfere with where my thoughts go.
“Who are you hitting right now?”
“Aiden,” I answer without thinking.
“Why Aiden?”
“He says he doesn’t trust me, but he’s broken my trust more than I’ve broken his,” I growl, listening to the firm smacks of my fists against the plastic. The sound is therapeutic in the rhythm I’ve picked up. “All he does is tear me down, but he expects me to share shit with him that hasnothingto do with him. It’s none of his business. Or anyone’s but mine.”
