Chapter 18

Dmitri

I wake up to find Daelyn gone.

It shouldn’t surprise me. Her survival instincts must have finally kicked in and she’s realized what a damaged piece of fuck I am.

Last night, I took her hard and rough. She screamed my name. She cried. She clung to me and begged for more.

My plan’s backfiring spectacularly. I thought she was going to be the distraction I needed to get out of my darkness. I hoped connecting with her would crack her shell and let me see the woman beneath the mask. All I’ve managed to do is dig my own fucking grave. The hole in my chest, made by her absence, proves it.

After ravaging her body, I kissed every exposed inch, licked every wound, caressed every muscle, worshipped every part of Daelyn she’d let me have. I summoned orgasm after orgasm from her pussy.

And her ass.

Honestly, that she could walk out of here is a miracle. I’d planned to spend the day giving her serious aftercare, and she’s robbed me of the privilege.

Laying on my back, I scrub my face and blow out a long breath. Five used condoms are in the trash by the bed. I hadn’t even wasted time running to the bathroom between sessions, because I didn’t want to be away from her for even that long. The night was a passionate, reckless fever dream, and I was so enthralled, so addicted to the unholy pleasure she brought me, I didn’t bother spending longer than a minute out of her body before plunging back into it.

Jesus, I’m an animal.

I’d finally passed out, my last thought being that the moment I turned my back or closed my eyes, she’d vanish like a dream.

Which is exactly what she did, goddamnit.

Rolling out of bed, I stumble into the shower and wash up. The food I ordered yesterday still sits on its tray, wasted. I snag the half-eaten croissant and shove it in my mouth, loving that Daelyn’s mouth was on it, too.

Wow. I’m pathetic. Where that woman’s lips have been should not turn me on like this. Not over a pastry.

I shove a handful of cold, stale fries into my mouth next. They taste like nothing. The younger, starved me would have attacked the half-eaten burger and untouched steak, regardless of how long it sat out. But I don’t do that anymore. Risking food poisoning will only keep me away from Daelyn, and that’s not happening.

The bowl of fruit is still up for grabs, so I shove handfuls of fruit into my mouth instead. I’ve spent too much of my childhood going hungry to throw all this food away as an adult. It doesn’t matter that I can make something fresh. Deep down, I’m still the deprived kid who lost it all because I couldn’t hide my demons like I was supposed to.

After getting dressed, I yank the door open and storm down the hallway, ready for work. Guilt eats at me for taking the night to myself, especially last minute. And I took a room that was likely booked by a member, not giving a fuck that I was using my privilege to do it.

Heading to the kitchen first, I beeline for the espresso machine. Ten minutes later, I’m halfway to Ryker’s office, prepared to get my ass handed to me for my recent behavior.

Ry’s at his desk, his woman perched on his lap.

“Morning Sunshine,” Tara says with a big goofy smile.

“Morning.”

“Leave us for a minute, Butterfly.” Ryker taps her thigh, and she gets up, kisses his throat, and steals my coffee right out of my hands before leaving the room.

Little brat . She’s lucky I love her.

Ryker leans back in his chair, deadpanning me, and I match his energy, unfazed.

“We need to talk, D.”

“I’ll set things right with whoever I took the room from last night. I hadn’t planned on my sub being here for so long. Things kind of snowballed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about who you took the room from. And neither do you.”

That’s true.

“But you’re right,” he continues. “Things have snowballed, and I want to know what’s going on.”

Fuck, I don’t want to say. Rubbing the back of my neck, I look down at my boots. “I’ve just hit a wall, Ry.”

“A wall?” Ryker stands up. “You haven’t hit a wall, D. You’ve hit rock bottom.”

My insides squirm because he’s right.

“You’re letting strangers who aren’t vetted into our club. You’re meeting people from your past to do shit you know can get you killed. That’s not a wall. Hell, that’s not even rock bottom. You’re dancing with death and you—” He bites back the rest of that sentence and scrubs his face. “Christ, man. What’s happened?”

“My father’s dead.”

Those three words have my legs wobbling. This is the first time I’ve said them out loud.

Ryker freezes. “How? When?”

“Stabbed in the yard. A month ago.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, D. I’m so sorry.”

Bet he is. Ryker lost his mom over a decade ago, and though he’s recently come to terms with it, the grief is still there. It’s there for me, too. Losing Miss Ashley was a blow that leveled us both. But I still had my dad. Even if I didn’t visit him in prison, he was still… there . Here. Alive. In some fucked up way, I’d coped with his life sentence by telling myself that all because I couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t still living. He wasn’t still laughing.

He wasn’t still fighting…

“What are you doing here, son?” My dad drops his duffel on the bench and storms over to me with his dark brows digging down. I can’t tell if he’s angry or scared. Maybe both?

“I work here.” The coach here trained my dad, so they can train me, too. All I have to do is show up and do what I’m told, stay respectful, and keep my mouth shut. Easy.

Dad’s voice drops low and he looks pissed. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Two months.”

It’s finally summer, so I’ve been able to juggle my time here and my hours at the coffee shop with no problem. I just haven’t seen my friends as much as I want to.

“This is your kid?” Silas asks from behind me.

Dad gawks, then nods, even though his mouth is in a tight line and eyes are hard as steel. I have my mom’s eyes, but my dad’s coloring. Olive skin, black hair, big build. I can’t wait to pass him in height and muscle mass.

“Well, he’s a helluva scrapper. Makes sense now, seeing that he’s yours.” Silas chuckles, patting my dad on the back before heading over to the two guys warming up in the ring.

I go back to cleaning some of the equipment off.

Dad grabs my shoulder, forcing me to stop working, and regards me with wary eyes. “You’ve been fighting in the ring?”

“Only practicing.” I jerk away from him so I can finish wiping the weight bench down. “Silas is giving me lessons in exchange for me cleaning the place.”

Dad wipes his mouth. “Your mother will have an aneurysm if she finds out you’re here.” When I don’t say a word, he adds, “You really want to be a fighter, huh?”

“I always said so, didn’t I?”

We glare at each other, and I silently dare him to tell me I can’t do it.

“Okay, kiddo.” He squeezes my shoulder, and I don’t even flinch with pain, which is a testament to my tolerance. He’s literally clutching a cut my mother carved into me two days ago. “But we’re going to have to keep this from your mom.”

“No problem.” I’m already keeping what she’s doing a secret from him. It seems fair to balance the scales and keep a secret from her, too.

Even as Dad stares at me with love and respect in his eyes, I want to knock his teeth out. I want to grab him by the throat and scream in his face, See me! How can he be so motherfucking clueless? How can such a smart man be stupid enough to love a monster that abuses their child so badly all the time? Dad spoils her rotten. He lets her get away with disrespecting him. He gives her all the control in the house while he’s the one paying the bills and busting his ass all the time. I don’t get it. For that matter, how the hell is he even here right now when he’s supposed to be working a double shift?

Then I realize the truth. Oh my God. Dad’s been lying to us for forever. He says he’s working until late every day when really, he’s here .

Cold anger pours over my body like a bucket of ice.

I hate him.

And yet… here I am, looking at my father like he’s my idol.

Because he is.

Fuck my life .

Grinding my molars, I let a chilled calmness settle over me and clear my throat. “Silas says I can start in the ring, for real, soon.”

“What? No. You need to train a lot before you go against an opponent.”

I’ve trained my whole life; he just doesn’t realize it. “I’m good, Dad. Real good.”

He grins at me like I’m adorable for saying that. “Good isn’t enough, son. You have to be ruthless.”

That gets my attention.

“If you want to fight like me, like any of us in Silas’s ring, you have to be cold. Cruel.”

I can be cold and cruel. “How?”

He inhales slowly and exhales even slower. “The trick is to always fight against the bad guy. You’re the hero in the cage, not the villain. You’re going against the worst of the worst and can stop at nothing until they surrender.”

Why does it sound like surrender is code for something worse?

“There’s less guilt that way,” he explains. “Fighting is just you serving justice. Silas only pits us against criminals and very bad men, Dmitri.”

Is he trying to say all this to scare me off? It’s not working. I’ll gladly take my pound of flesh from anyone who swings their fists at me since I can’t do it to the one who’s ruined my life… and my body.

“I can handle that.”

Dad’s expression falls. “You’re going to get hurt. Badly.”

“I can handle that, too.”

“This isn’t like a fight on the playground, kid. Even if you take on one of the younger guys closer to your age and weight, they won’t stop until you do. Understand me?”

“Yes.” I can’t wait to show my dad what I can do. To prove to myself that I’m not a whimpering little pussy who cowers under his mommy’s hateful hands. The kids I fight at school barely take the edge off my aggression and I need this more than I’ll ever tell my dad. Or my friends.

“I want to do this. With or without you, I’m going in the cage.” I hold his stare, which is nothing as heartless as my mothers, and wait for him to concede or drag me out of the gym.

“Okay,” he whispers, his shoulders falling. “Okay, Dmitri.”

The triumph feels like a loss, but I don’t know why. “I’ll fight the bad guy and win every time. Just watch me.”

Dad’s cheeks mottle with redness that splotches down his neck. “Just remember one last thing.” He presses his forehead to mine. “We’re all bad guys, D. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others.”

Crossing my arms, I keep staring at the floor. “Had to pick up his ashes and scatter them.” I couldn’t keep Dad’s remains. It would have driven me insane having him so close. Even dumping them in the river had my mental health snapping into pieces.

Ryker’s brow pinches. “You should have told me. I could have been there for you.”

“It’s not your place.”

“It is my place, you asshole.” Ry slams his hand on the desk. “We’re fucking family , D.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I want to burden him with my past. Doing it while I was going through my Hell made me feel shitty enough. I’ve cried in his arms. I’ve hidden in his closet. I’ve beaten the shit out of him because I felt like it and he said I could.

We’ve been through too much already, and he’s finally in a better place, thanks to Tara. She’s been his Butterfly, and the love of his life, long enough for him to work through a lot of his demons and find closure with his past. I’m glad. Ryker deserves happiness because I might have had a rough upbringing, but Ryker’s was fucking devastating and it ruined him for a very long time. Tara’s changed a lot of that. She helped him find peace.

Can Daelyn do the same for me?

Holy shit. That I’d even consider that a possibility proves I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. I’m suddenly beyond grateful Daelyn ghosted me this morning. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay away. If she doesn’t, I’ll fucking make her.

Time to move on and get back to what I’m best at. “So, what’s on the list for today?”

Ryker lets out a long sigh. “A delivery should be here shortly. Last night, we had an incident in the penthouse. Sophie was… tested.”

My hackles raise. “Who am I killing?”

No one disrespects Sophie on my watch. But you weren’t on watch , the angel on my shoulder reminds me. You were balls deep in pussy, being a selfish coward .

You mean getting grief out of your system so you could be a better member of society? The devil on my other shoulder argues.

“Vault took care of it,” Ryker says, cautiously. “And as of right now, you’re on leave.”

I shoot out of my chair so fast it knocks over. “What?”

“I don’t repeat myself.” Ry walks towards the door. “You need to work on yourself, D. That’s not going to happen if you’re distracted with work and pussy.”

“You motherfucking hypocrite .” Rage has my vision hazing red. “You did the same thing I am when you made Tara the Butterfly.”

“Then I’m speaking from experience.”

I close the gap between us, shoving my forehead to his, my nostrils flaring as I keep my temper on a short leash.

“There it is,” he says calmly. “The animal that’s been caged too fucking long.”

I reel back as if he’s punched me in the throat. It’s suddenly too tight with a swarm of emotions clogging it. “Fuck you,” I croak.

“I love you, D, but you’re too dangerous like this. Remember the last time you felt this way?”

My memory flips through the compartmentalized scenes of my past and yanks out one of many times I’ve blacked out with rage. I take another step back, suddenly grateful for the reminder. I am my father’s son, after all, and I can never forget that.

“What am I supposed to do, Ry?”

“Grieve. Blow off some steam. Find your peace.”

How the fuck do I do that? It’s not like I’m having a shit day or rotten week. My entire existence has been absolute Hell. You don’t find peace from that. You just keep burning.

“I’m here for you, Dmitri. Always. So are Knox and Vault. We’re your family. And in case you haven’t taken inventory, your family’s grown over the years. Sophie… Tara. You’re safe here. But you’re not safe being here.”

His meaning seeps into my black-fog brain. I’m dangerous to be around. It’s not something I’m proud of. Not after all the work I’ve done to tame my demons. It only took the news of my dad, who I haven’t seen in years, to derail a decade’s worth of work.

One step forward, ten steps back.

“You’re right.” That I was so willing to kill someone for disrespecting Sophie is a dead ringer that I’m not okay anymore. It’s one thing to say it. It’s another to mean it.

Will killing someone finally feed the starved monster buried inside me?

Doubtful. That thing is insatiable.

“The woman you brought in last night…” Ryker cautiously says. “You seemed content with her.”

Content isn’t the words I’d use to describe what I feel around Daelyn. But what we have isn’t real, so I’m not going to look closer at it. Especially now that she’s gone.

“She was fun,” I say nonchalantly, ignoring the pang in my heart. “But she’s gone now. I doubt she’ll return.”

“Mmm.”

Ryker folds his arms, and we stare at each other until I finally look away. “How long did you watch us?”

“Long enough.”

The entire club is wired heavily with surveillance cameras. If I’m honest, it’s one reason I brought her to the Monarch. Because if I went overboard and couldn’t reel myself back in, someone else would. That, and I have nowhere else to take her besides a hotel.

I live at the club. It’s never felt like an embarrassment until this moment. I have nothing to show for my life. All my money is divided up in other people’s dreams, to better them. And what’s left is a nest egg I have no clue what to do with. Having a house seems pointless. I’m always working at the Monarch, so I’d never be home to enjoy it. Investments outside my circle of friends aren’t an option because I don’t trust anyone else. I have nothing, and I am nothing.

And now I’m being forced out of the club and put on suspension. Lovely.

“Guess I’ll go.” My feet numbly take me to the door Ryker’s holding open.

“You want my place for a while? Tara and I can stay at—”

“No.” I’m not kicking him out of his house for any reason. Using Ryker’s personal playroom to blow my load occasionally is one thing, but staying longer than one evening is way too much. “I’ll figure something out.”

Leaving Ryker to his club business, I pull my cell out and make a call while sauntering down the hall. “Hey. You around?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I’m coming over.”