Page 111 of Unbreakable Thread

So she tells him everything, and I mean every single thing.

“You’re working for the crime organization, Maximiliano?” His voice sounds like it had been dragged through glass.

I rub my face. “No, not exactly. I had been fighting in what they call the Underground, which is illegal fights.”

“I know what that is…but why?” He lifts his hands up, his forehead creasing.

“Why?” I stare at him. “Because I didn’t have much of a choice. I was homeless. It’s not like I could exactly stay with you. I had to find a way to make money fast. I don’t take handouts from anyone.”

He bows his head in shame. Then says he is coming with me.

So this is why we are all packed in the truck, along with Drake.

Five minutes later, I’m at the front door of the warehouse. I look to my dad and Drake. “You two better keep an eye on her. If a strand of hair is misplaced on her head, I swear…”

“Don’t worry, Pops and I have it under control. Right?” Drake elbows him, and my dad just grunts.

The second we enter the warehouse, the air changes as if we’ve stepped into another world. The metallic copper tang of fresh blood hits first—sharp, invasive—making my nostrils flare. It mingles with the musky scent of sex seeping from beneath closed doors, a primal perfume that makes me want to vomit. Stale alcohol clings to everything, sweet and sour simultaneously, while cigarette smoke hangs in visible layers beneath the dim lights. All of it wrapped in the salty, unwashed smell of too many bodies sweating in too small a space. A woman steps out of the room, the look of her disheveled hair, smeared lipstick, ripped shirt, tits out, only means—freshly fucked. The woman eyes me with familiarity. I’m wearing my hoodie to hide my identity.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sol shouts. Only making the woman smirk.

I tighten my hand in hers. “Cálmate.”

“Well, she’s looking at you like she wants to lick your balls.”

Drake snorts from behind. My jealous woman.

“And she’s the one who said you fuck like a beast. Or something like that. When I went to the underground for the first time.”

“I guarantee you, I haven’t touched her, or anyone but you. You’re the only one who can establish that theory.” Her first time at the underground was with Andrew. How could I forget that asshole? I wish I could.

She hums. The door from one of the rooms swings open. A guy walks out with his flaccid dick out. He beckons the woman.

“Don’t look,” I murmur, telling Sol.

“I wish I hadn’t,” she mumbles.

My boot connects with the locker room door, sending it crashing against the wall. I toss my duffel bag on the wooden bench. It lands with a thud. I dig through my bag until my fingers find the wraps, then unravel them between my hands. Just as I loop the first wrap around my knuckles, Dad’s calloused fingers intercept, taking them from me. His eyes find mine.

I nod. He starts with my right hand. His fingers are deliberate. Careful. Like he’s doing something he’s been waiting to do for a long time and doesn’t want to rush it. I watch him. These hands once caused pain and are now working to protect me.

He lays a hand on my shoulder. His voice drops low, and he recites a familiar prayer. One my mom used to recite to me, and the one inked on my chest. That way, I’d always remember it. My throat tightens.

“Amen,” we all say in unison. Moments pass. We all stay silent for what feels like minutes, but it only lasts seconds until Drake breaks the silence.

“So, you can’t get out of this shit hole?” Drake asks, scrutinizing the room. The last time he was here at the warehouse was when Daniel had Jason.

“I could, but I have too much at stake. I don’t want them to come after Sol or any of you guys.”

Drake nods, and my dad sits next to Sol.

Now that we have a baby on the way. A family we are starting. I need to find a way out of this. A part of me wants to pack up and move to keep Sol and the baby safe. I’ll figure it out.

A knock rasps at the door. Xander walks in. He greets everyone. “They’re ready for you.” Sweat covers his face. Blood trickles from a cut on the corner of his eye. He must have just finished up his fight.

Sol jumps from her seat, fishing out her first aid kit from her bag. “Here, let me help you,” she offers.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t…”