James

“Please. If you care about me at all, stay the hell away from me.”

Her words alone are enough to gut me, but when I note the anguish in her eyes and the tremble in her voice, it’s like my entire being splits apart. I feel as though my flesh has been torn down to the marrow of my bones, ripped between the man who wants to fight for her and the man who refuses to bend and change for anyone. The pain is excruciating, the intensity like nothing I’ve ever felt, and for a moment, it steals my breath.

Running a hand through my hair, I summon every ounce of strength I have to keep from chasing after her. She begged—practically pleaded—for me to leave her alone. Her desperation was such that she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, so what other choice do I have but to let her go?

It’s the sudden burn behind my eyes that jolts me from the daze I’m stuck in. This angst, this suffocating sense of helplessness—it’s all so foreign to me. This isn’t who I am at all, not anymore. I’ve spent a lifetime purging these useless emotions, along with anything that triggers them. Shielding myself from negative thoughts and experiences. Avoiding anything that causes discomfort.

So why the hell am I feeling like this now? 

Or maybe the better question is: Why am I letting this girl get to me?

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lucas leaning against the wall. The way he’s looking at me says he saw what went down between Annelly and me. The crease on his forehead signals he’s struggling to make sense of what he just saw, and my first instinct is to tell him to fuck off—because nothing about Annelly and me makes any sense. But the flood of rage scorching my insides keeps me from saying anything. Instead, I storm back into the room, my fury fixed on the fucker who caused all of this.

“Come here, you sick fuck!” I shout, lunging forward to wrap my fingers around his throat. But a split second later, powerful arms drag me backward, and the fact I’m being restrained ignites a deeper fury. “I’ll fucking kill you for touching her, you sick bastard!” I scream, my whole body vibrating like it’s about to come apart. The sudden rush of adrenaline and self-loathing mixes into a toxic storm of destruction that demands release.

Now that it’s free, my anger is an unstoppable beast—an old part of me I once relied on to survive. I kept it locked away for years, starving it of any chance to inflict pain. To break and destroy in the same measure I’ve been broken and destroyed. And right now, that monster in me wants to kill the man who dared to taint her—a young woman who is more angel than human, whose innocence is as precious as it is priceless.

“Calm down, Boy Scout. It’s not like I hurt her.” The asshole sneers and I swear my head’s about to explode.

But before I can launch myself at him, his body slams to the ground, courtesy of a punch he never saw coming. Lucas is on him in a heartbeat, his chest heaving with fury as he moves in to finish pounding the asshole into the floor. It only takes a few seconds before Ben and Zeb have Lucas wrapped up, preventing him from beating Anthony Zappalla to a bloody pulp.

 Is it sick that I’m relieved they’re saving him from Lucas—just because I want to be the one who ends him?

His face is already swelling from Lucas’s punch as the asshole clumsily staggers to his feet. With an ugly scowl twisting his features, he levels a finger at all of us. “You’ll regret that. Mark my words, all of you will regret it.”

As he storms out, Dominick tightens his hold on me, sending another wave of anger sizzling through my veins. Furious that they’re letting him walk away, I wrench free. When Dom makes a move to restrain me again, I brace myself to take a swing. This is what I know. My specialty. The skill that earned me a spot on this team. I’m a fighter. A scrapper. A winner. And with my size and strength, it takes a hell of a man to step up to me when fists start flying. 

Pivoting, I draw back my arm to deliver a blow, but he throws his hands up in surrender. Somewhere in my rage-fueled mind, recognition flares—this man is my friend, an ally, one of the few people in this world I can trust. Realizing he’s not the target of my fury, I pull back, but my glare warns him not to touch me again. 

“Let him go, James,” Dom says in a calm and steady tone, his hands still raised in a sign of submission. “That prick isn’t worth getting arrested over.”

Ignoring Dom’s words, I bolt after Zappalla, determined to make sure he stays far away from Annelly. By the time I reach the main dining area, he’s already gone. The bell above the door as he leaves reminds me of the ones used in the cage fights I used to take part in. It’s like it’s announcing the fucker won this round, which I guess he has. A fact that only intensifies the seething anger coursing through me.

It feels wrong to let him walk away after he dared lay a hand on her, but I know Dominick’s right—we don’t have a choice. It’s one thing to knock his ass out in the privacy of the private room, but out here in public, I’d be guaranteed a trip to jail. A place that damn near killed me the first time and which I swore I’d never go back to.

Still, it takes everything in me to tamp down the poisonous rage that flows through my blood. As I stand at the door, watching him drive away, the beast inside me struggles to get free. It pounds inside my chest; it throbs inside my head, ratcheting up my need to punch the shit out of something until my fists are raw and bloody.

The beast is my curse. The side of me that few in my current life have ever seen. Once upon a time, it was all I was: a swirling mass of hopeless rage fueled by revenge and destruction. Inflicting pain was the answer to every problem—my first, second, and last choice in just about every situation. It’s been years since I let it out, even longer since I needed it. And as shameful as it is, the truth is that the beast is who I really am at my core. It’s the part of me I’ve been hiding and running from since embracing this new life. A life I designed so I’d never have to fight again. A life where everyone thinks I’m nothing more than a carefree, fun-loving guy.

When Zappalla finally peels out of the parking lot, my first instinct is to find Annelly—just to lay eyes on her and make sure she’s okay. I’m already heading to the back office when Aunt Rosie intercepts me.

“She’s gone,” she says, concern etched in every word. “She was upset, so she left. Can you tell me what happened?”

I swallow hard, trying to piece my thoughts together. Aunt Rosie has always been good to me and my brother, but I also know things between her and Annelly are complicated. With all the tension between us, the last thing I want is to further betray Annelly’s trust. 

“Um, it’s probably best if she tells you herself,” I manage, forcing a polite smile. “Would you mind calling her in a few minutes? Just to make sure she got home okay?”

She nods, though the tension in her posture betrays her disappointment. It’s clear she wants answers, but I can’t give them to her. Not now. Before she can press any further, I step away. The urgency to address the situation with the team trumps everything else. 

Even before I reach the private space, I can hear the raised voices of my teammates. They’re already in the thick of a heated discussion, and I know exactly what—or who—they’re arguing about. Anthony Zappalla needs to be dealt with, and the sooner we figure out how, the better.

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