Page 33 of Splintered Desire

“Kid, that’s not possible. I still remember when you used to get your ass beat every fight.” He laughs as if it’s a good memory… It’s not, but he isn’t wrong. I used to get fucked up.

Back then, I fought in a ski mask, and they just called me kid.

It took almost two years before I won enough that Reed demanded I either stop or take it seriously.

And Vixen was born.

Even with all the hours Dad worked back then, it was hard to keep what I was doing under the radar. Ozy hated it, seeing me get my ass kicked over and over, but I loved the rush of being in the ring, the high I got even when I lost.

It gave me something I had never had before: power.

I was in control, and I was addicted after just once, even if it was a miserable loss.

I shove his shoulder as I move past him to grab my sweater from the hook on the wall, and of course, he doesn’t so much as sway.

Huge, strong asshole.

“I’m not that kid anymore, Reed. You know that. I’m undefeated now.” I manage to sound more confident than I am, turning around to wink at him when I feel his eyes on me.

“Yeah, you are.” He nods, but I’m not sure what part he’s agreeing to—maybe both?

I roll my eyes before pushing out into the hall, letting the swinging doors fly back behind me. He pauses for a minute before pushing through, too, and easily catching up with me.

Damn his long legs.

His fingers wrap around my arm, pulling me to a stop and swinging me back around so that we're damn near toe-to-toe.

Something about being this close to him is a lot, almost overwhelming. The Reed I’m used to is always joking and smiling; I don’t even need to look up at him to know this isn’t like that. I can feel it in the way his fingers grip my arm, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon, a lot like my own.

“Promise me you’ll call if you need help. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

My heart beats faster with every word he says. I dare to look up at him through my lashes to find him staring down at me with so much intensity that I quickly look away.

“I promised Ozy I’d look out for you.”

Ouch.

It makes sense, though; they were friends after all. That also explains his interest in me. I should have known.

He drops my arm, and I hear him move, but I stand frozen as I try to decide what to do.

It only takes a moment, though; I know I can’t pull him into this. They’re dangerous, and somehow I don’t think they’ll really hurt me, not like they might someone like Reed, someone who isn’t ‘family.’

“Ozy left. You don’t owe him anything.” I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but I can’t seem to help it when it comes to him. I might be a little salty, even after all this time.

What can I say, when you love someone, and they disappear into the night, never to be heard from again, after you spent every day with them and told them everything, thinking you would be together forever?

It has that kind of effect.

Fuck, this is why I don’t let myself think about him.

I turn away, more than ready to leave, but I only make it a few steps.

This time, I spin around, ready to give him a piece of my mind, only to find his hand outstretched in offering.

I raise a brow at him in question, and he rolls his eyes.

“Just take it, brat.” I huff at the use of the old nickname but still snatch the knife from his hand. I’ve never seen Reed unarmed; his knives and gun sit on his hip the same way my mask sits on my face.