Chapter 4

Dmitri

It’s been two weeks since I was in the cage. Feels like a lifetime. Since that night, I’ve worked relentlessly at the club, just to keep myself occupied.

“Will you help me tonight?” Sophie asks from the other end of the sauna.

“Absolutely.”

Sophie’s one of our Femme Dommes. Splitting her time between the Monarch Club and her day job has left practically no time for herself, which Ryker and I have been trying to help her understand. The woman needs rest. Friends. A life.

I said I’d be her assistant tonight with a BDSM class we’re teaching on impact play. Guess she was afraid I’d back out. Not surprising, considering I’ve flaked on her twice in the past month because I cannot get my shit together and haven’t been in a good headspace to flog someone.

“Your bruises are nearly gone.” She doesn’t tear her eyes off me as we sit across from each other in the sauna. “That’s good.”

“Mmm hmm.”

I’m sure a lot of people assume she’s got a thing for me, but I know better. No one can be in love with a monster like me.

I’m fuckable, not lovable.

And I’m not really Sophie’s type.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while and I almost nod off when she startles me by saying, “Well, time’s up. Back to work I go.”

I should probably get back to work, too. After hitting the shower, I stop in front of the large wall-to-wall mirror in the dressing room and stare at my reflection. Christ, I look like shit. All my bruises are fading and I…

I want them back.

Shame hits me hard, and I try to understand how the fuck I got this way…

My mother flicks her cigarette ashes into a dish. “Where are you going?” Her Russian accent is always stronger when she drinks.

I keep my head down and pretend like I didn’t hear her.

A drinking glass flies across the living room and smashes against the wall. My fight-or-flight response kicks in and I freeze.

“Answer me, Dmitri.”

“T-to my friend’s house.”

“Where is friend’s house?”

“Up the street a little.”

Mom stares at me from her chair, the silence spreading down my spine like ice. Finally, she says, “Be home before your father.”

“I will.”

Scurrying outside, I book it to the playground that’s further out of my neighborhood because the one close by is for littler kids. I don’t have any friends. I just needed to get out of my house because Mom’s on her third glass already this morning and she gets meaner as the day goes by, even though she’ll be sober by the time my dad comes home from work.

Out of breath from running the entire way to the better playground, I drop into a swing, panting. The rusty chains squeak, grinding my nerves. Mad that I’m stuck and lonely, I kick the mulch under my feet. Great, my shoe has another hole in it. My big toe is showing.

In the fenced off grass ahead of me, there’s a bunch of kids playing soccer. Their parents obnoxiously cheer for them and there’s even a snack stand because spoiled kids can’t do shit without French fries, hot dogs, and candy.

My stomach growls.

Hopping off the swing, I make my way over to the fence and climb it, then head to the back of the line for the snack stand.

Fishing a crumpled dollar from my pocket, I straighten it out as best I can while waiting for my turn. I took it from my mom’s purse when she passed out yesterday. Scanning the price list on the board, I pick an affordable option.

“What can I get you, honey?” the woman asks from behind the counter.

“Chips.”

“That’s seventy-five cents.”

I hand her the money and get my change, thrilled to have something to put in my empty belly this early in the morning. As I head back to the swings, I look over my shoulder and see two kids about my age laughing and pushing each other around.

“Can I spend the night tonight?” the shorter one asks.

“Yeah, sure,” says the other.

Three little kids squeal from the slide at the playground, and one hops on my swing.

Great, there goes my peace and quiet around here.

Bypassing them, I detour towards the basketball hoops. My stomach growls, as if sensing I have food in my hands and demands I open the bag immediately. Which I do. People say you can’t eat just one chip, and I agree. I’d eat a dump truck full if I could. The salt and vinegar chips make my mouth pucker, but I can’t stop shoveling them in. But now I’m a little thirsty. A quarter won’t buy me a drink.

My spit is free. That’ll work.

Sitting against the fence, I dump the rest of the chips into my mouth and stuff the empty bag into my pocket.

The two older boys start playing basketball together. The court is a wreck; the ground is all torn up with weeds growing out of the cracks, and the netless basketball rims have broken backboards too.

“Shit,” one of the kids says when the ball rolls over to where I’m sitting. I glance at it and don’t move.

“You gonna throw that back or what?” the taller one asks.

Getting up hurts. My mom kicked me in the ribs pretty hard yesterday. Without saying a word, I grab the ball and throw it as hard as I can.

In the opposite direction of these two assholes.

“Motherfucker.” The taller one storms off after it.

The shorter one looks furious. “What’s your fucking problem, dickhead?”

I have too many to count.

They both look like they’re my age—maybe thirteen or something.

“I’m talking to you,” the shorter one stalks over. “The fuck is your problem?”

I square up, spoiling for a fight. I’m tired. I hurt. And I’m angry that no one sees me. Not even these two shitheads can see me. I’m just a weirdo in their way who pulled a dick move.

He pushes me against the fence.

My back hurts because I slept in my closet last night.

“Knox, leave him alone.” The taller kid makes his way over to us with the basketball resting on his hip. “He’s not worth it.”

“He needs a fucking lesson in manners.”

I roll my shoulders back. “You think you can give me one?”

“Fuck right I can.” Knox swings out and I block him.

Putting all my weight into it, I barrel into the kid and tackle him to the ground. I don’t even know why I’m picking this fight. I don’t understand why I want to smash someone up when I know how much it sucks to get beat on.

But I swing fists anyway.

Knox doesn’t stay down long. We toss and tumble, punching and kicking, until the tall kid breaks us apart. “You two done now?” he asks like he’s in fucking charge.

I wipe my bloody mouth with the back of my hand. Tears fill my eyes and I have no clue why. I’m just so fucking angry and all these emotions rise to the surface and need a way out.

“Yeah. We’re done.” Knox swipes his nose. I clocked him pretty good and he’s bleeding like me.

“Good. Come on. Let’s play ball.” The tall kid walks away from both of us, and that’s when I notice Knox has an old bruise on his arm. It looks like a handprint.

Without thinking, I lift my shirt up to my wipe face off with it.

Knox looks down and sees the big bruise on my ribs.

We stare at each other for a long time. Long enough for the tall kid to holler, “You two numbnuts playing ball or what?”

Knox glares at me a little longer and I stare at him with what I’m sure are soulless eyes. I don’t know how to feel anything besides the short bursts of rage I sometimes get.

“Yeah,” he says and walks off.

I watch, still trying to catch my breath. My hands shake. I want to throw up my chips. I’m still thirsty.

Knox calls out over his shoulder, “Are your legs broke, asshole? Come on. Time to play ball.”

I trip on his words. I just beat him up, and now he wants me to play basketball with them? These two assholes must be more fucked in the head than I am.

“What’s your name?” the tall one asks once I make my way over to the court.

“Dmitri.”

“I’m Ryker, this is Knox.” He bounces the ball to me. “Winner has to get the losers slushies from the gas station. Deal?”

I bounce the ball to Knox, prepared to walk away. “I don’t have any money.”

“Neither do we,” Knox says, and bounces it right back to me.

We smile at each other, and the rage I keep siphoning from fades a little. Ryker smacks the ball out of my hand and makes a layup. Knox grabs the rebound and we’re suddenly playing like we’ve been friends forever.

A little while later, a third kid shows up on a bicycle with a Bluetooth speaker and cell phone. His name’s Vault, but I don’t get why they call him that and I’m not asking. He blasts music I like, and we team up on the court.

When it’s over, I’m tired and dizzy from starvation and dehydration.

“Hey.” Ryker looks over at me as he, Knox, and Vault head in the opposite direction from where I live. “Wanna spend the night at my house tonight?”

I’m not sure I should. But I don’t want to go home if I don’t have to. “Don’t you have to ask your parents for permission first?”

Ryker shrugs. “My mom won’t mind.” He tips his head towards the street. “Come on. Knox owes us slushies, then we’ll head to my place. Bet my mom’s got dinner already waiting. Hope you like spaghetti.”

I stall out, suddenly realizing how late it is. We’ve been playing ball all day. The sun’s almost set.

My dad is home .

Fear spikes in my system and I beat feet across the playground and back to my house without saying anything to Ryker or the others. My cheeks are numb by the time I push open the door and am smacked in the face with the scent of dinner.

“There he is!” My dad chimes in the kitchen. “You’re just in time, son. I almost ate your dinner, too.” His big smile suddenly drops and brow furrows. “What happened to your face, Dmitri?”

Oh. Right. My face. “Got into a fight.”

“Did you start it?”

Yes. “No.”

“Did you finish it?”

No. “Yes.”

“Atta boy.” Dad points at the empty seat between him and my mom, and I pull out my chair and fall into it.

She glares at me with a fork and knife in her hands. “You’re late.”

“Sorry.” I stuff a slice of bread with butter into my mouth.

Her expression is as cold as her voice. “Maybe you need a lesson on how to tell time.”

“Aww, leave the kid alone, Anya. He’s just having fun.”

“Fun. Getting into fights is fun ?” She drops her silverware with a clank. “He will be just like you.”

My dad’s brow arches. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Always fighting. Always out late.” She snags her plate and mine before I get a chance to eat any of what’s on it. “He needs discipline.” She tosses my food in the trash and drops my plate in the sink.

“Anya.” Dad’s voice drops in a pleading tone. “He didn’t even get to eat his dinner.”

“If he wanted to eat it, he should have been home when I told him to be. Which was before dinner.” She smacks the faucet and pours water all over my empty plate as she washes it.

Dad looks down at his plate and I know he’d slide it over to me if there was anything left on it to eat. But there isn’t. My mom doesn’t make enough for leftovers or second helpings. She controls all the portions because she controls all the grocery money.

I don’t understand why we can’t afford a decent amount of food every week when my dad makes good money as a mechanic and also fights for cash on the side. If we can afford her alcohol, why can’t we afford extra apples or even a bigger box of cereal?

“Go to your room,” Mom barks.

“I was actually going to spend the night at a friend’s house.”

Dad’s eyes widen with joy. “Hear that, Anya? He has friends!” The smile on his face embarrasses me. “Go on.” He points at the door. “Get out of here, kid!”

I’m out of my chair before my mom can object.

“Be home by ten tomorrow morning,” my dad hollers. “I’ll take you to the gym with me.”

“Okay!” Finally free, I fly out of the house so fast it’s like I grew wings.

Except I have no clue where Ryker lives or if I’ll ever see him and the others again…

“What’s going on, Dmitri?” Ryker asks from against the doorjamb. Christ, I didn’t even hear him come in. How long have I been standing in the Monarch Club Member’s bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror?

“Nothing.”

He saunters closer, concern darkening his stormy grey eyes. “The cage fight didn’t quiet your monster. It awakened it.”

He’s right. Pretending otherwise is insulting to us both.

“I need this.” The confession shreds my black heart. I’m hard-wired for pain and rage. And we both know what gets me off because I’m a masochist.

“Is…” Ryker clears his throat. “Sophie helping you with that?”

“No.” And I won’t ask her to. She’s too precious for me. Too good .

“She would if you wanted her to.”

“I know, which is why I’m not going there.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

Sweet offer, but hard pass. I’m too far gone for even Ryker’s form of abuse. I need…

Fuck, I don’t know what I need. I just know I haven’t found it yet.

Ryker comes closer. “What were you just thinking about that had you oblivious to the fact that I was in here with you, D?”

It’s not like me to let anything slip under my radar. We both know that. So for him to have startled me in the bathroom isn’t a good sign.

“I was thinking about the day we met.”

Ryker relaxes a little. “That was a fun summer.”

I never found out where Ryker lived that night, so I slept on a bench at the playground and was back home before breakfast the next day. I went to the gym with my dad, then he headed to work for a double shift, and my mom beat the shit out of me before locking me in the closet until a half hour before my dad got home that night.

Desperate for friends, I returned to the playground every day for the next week and a half, until Ryker, Knox, and Vault showed up again. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

I know where I’d be by now if I hadn’t met them all those years ago. I’d have followed my dad’s footsteps, which has me scared now because I’m pretty sure I’ve followed them anyway. “Going back in the cage was a onetime thing.”

“Don’t lie, D.” Ryker’s tone grounds me. “It doesn’t help anyone. Especially you.”

He’s right , I think to myself while splashing cold water on my face. The agony I live with barely registers. I’m too used to it. “I can’t feel anything anymore, Ry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, D.”

“Now who’s lying?” I step back and look away from my reflection. “I won’t go back to the cage again.”

“Maybe you should.”

I tense, shocked by what he’s said. “What?”

Ryker shrugs. “Look, I’m not a fan of you cage fighting the way you do, but I also know you’ve always been this way.”

My hackles raise. “What way?”

“You need an outlet. Everyone does, D.”

“Sex works, too.”

Ryker shakes his head. “Not for you.”

“I don’t appreciate getting called out like this.”

“No offense, man, but we both know sex only works after you’ve released tension in other ways.” Ryker’s tone softens before he adds, “I see you, D. You’ve been hurting for a while. I just wish there was a way I could help.”

Shame heats my back and slides around my neck like a noose. “I lost time in the ring.” My confession lands like a boulder between us. “I put down seven men. Only counted three. I blacked out in the middle of the fight and can’t remember most of it.”

“Jesus.”

Now he understands what my real problem is. I’ve turned into the deadliest combo of my parents. “Silas and a few others pulled me back.”

“I can’t believe that old man’s still running the ring.”

I can. Those cage fights make him a lot of money. What happens at the Scrapyard, stays at the Scrapyard. He’s got all the right people on payroll and can wipe evidence faster than most businessmen can wipe their asses after a morning shit. Silas is also on no one’s side but his own. He’ll do anything for anyone at the right price and never say a word about it ever again.

It makes him equal parts an ally and enemy for most. To me, he was a second father.

Ryker crosses his arms. “What happened after Silas pulled you off?”

“I went up to my old room and fucked my prize.” Again, that’s not a new mode of operation for me. Ryker knows I get off on my pain. He’s been to plenty of cage fights back in the day too, so he’s seen my set up there.

“Silas had someone waiting for you?”

“Yeah.” And now he knows that I didn’t just happen to show up on the night of a fight. My arrival was prearranged. What kills me most right now is the concern in Ryker’s gaze. It’s not because I’d made arrangements to fight, either. I know this look on him too well. He’s worried I went too far with the prize chained up for me. “I didn’t hurt her. I was right enough in my head by the time I got there.”

I can’t read his next expression, but there’s definitely relief in there somewhere. It makes me feel like an unpredictable animal Ryker can’t decide if he should train or put down.

“She was beautiful,” I ramble for no good reason. “Fierce and feisty. Like a black alley cat.”

“Does the alley cat have a name?”

I’m ashamed to admit I don’t remember. Some of that night is still hazy and I think it’s because I’m concussed. “Dae… something. Maybe.”

Wow, I’m an asshole. Shouldn’t I remember the name of the woman who I’ve thought about non-stop for the past two weeks? I don’t even know why I keep thinking about her, honestly. She was just a prize. I’ve had plenty before her that didn’t stick with me.

Still, every night, as I lay on my cot in the dark cold room in the basement of the Monarch Club, I jack off to the memory of that woman. Her scent. Her sounds. Her sopping wet pussy.

My cell goes off and the number on the screen drains the blood from my head. It’s Silas. “I gotta take this,” I say quietly. Ryker leaves without saying another word, but I sense his disapproval. My hands shake when I answer because I know better than to take this call. “Yeah?”

Part of me hopes the old man has a new fight set up. Another part of me is annoyed I don’t have the strength to block his number.

“We got a slight problem, Dmitri.”

My protective instincts kick in. He might be the devil who rules my Hell, but he was also the angel who saved me when no one else could. I owe him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But do you remember that woman you enjoyed after the fight?”

My entire body locks. “What about her?”

“She’s been at the Scrapyard every night since. I think she’s looking for you.”