Chapter 21

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f ucking hell.

All I wanted was to be out there, pounding that bag until my knuckles were raw, bleeding, and I could finally stop thinking. Or better yet, digging into the investigation of my teammate’s deaths, trying to unravel the goddamn mess that had become our unit.

What I really wanted? I wanted to grab that asshole by the throat and beat the living shit out of him. Make him pay for every tear Red shed, every bruise he left on her.

But I couldn’t. I had to sit there, play nice, act civil—pretend like I gave two shits about his worthless, miserable ass. And all the while, the urge to rip him apart was burning through me like a goddamn wildfire.

Red? She looked genuinely uncomfortable, caught between her ex’s manipulative charm and the intense hatred I was throwing his way with my eyes. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. The way he still leered at her, like he had some kind of claim over her. Piece of shit.

She was holding it together—barely. I could see it in the tight way she stood, the way she couldn’t even look at him directly. And when she did, there was that flicker of fear, like he still had some power over her, some way of making her life a living hell. It made me fucking sick.

And me? I was boiling inside, barely keeping a lid on it. All I wanted was to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his eyes popped out of his skull.

Then the fucker smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and said something cocksure about how we were all ‘friends’ here.

Friends?

I wanted to reach across Red and punch him so hard his teeth rattle. As I glared daggers at that piece of shit, he was trying to maintain a smile, pretending he wasn’t the toxic waste of humanity he was.

I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down, because if I didn’t, I’d end up snapping his neck in front of everyone. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Fuck Zen. I needed a drink, not meditation.

Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths.

The captain cleared his throat, and everyone turned their attention back to him.

“Gentlemen and Miss Davis,” he started, his voice booming in the small space, “I’ve got a mission for all of you,” he announced. “You’re heading to the south of Afghanistan. There it’s a conflict-ridden area, and you’ll be providing medical and humanitarian assistance.”

I rolled my eyes. A team mission—with him on board? Jesus Christ.

“You’re all familiar with the situation in that region, right?” Captain droned on, his gaze bouncing between us like a ping-pong ball. “Well, this mission is our chance to make a difference. You’ll be working with a team of soldiers to set up field hospitals and distribute aid.”

I was trying to process his words, but all I could think about is how much I wanted to tear that bastard apart.

“You’ll be leaving in a week. Lieutenant,” he added, addressing me directly, “you’ll need to train the medical staff that will be joining.”

Fuck. My. Life.

My face dropped. Training an abusive ex-boyfriend and a pretty doctor who I just so happened to have the hots for.

Perfect combo.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered under my breath.

The captain raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Even though I knew he heard me.

“Sir,” I began, trying not to lose my shit entirely, “I’m not comfortable with the idea of training them both. It’s a conflict of interest, and I don’t want any bullshit drama messing up my work.”

Captain scoffed. “You’re a professional, Rogue. You’ll handle it.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood, trying not to tell him to go fuck himself right there.

Dr. Douchebag, with his smarmy grin and beady eyes, chuckled and said, “What’s the problem, pretty boy? Can’t handle a little competition?”

This sarcastic comment just reeked of asshole and I felt my blood boiling. I’ve seen my fair share of shit on the battlefield, but this fucking quack took the cake. His attitude pissed me off, and I could see Red looking scared as hell, her hands shaking like leaves in a damn earthquake.

“I’ll fucking show you competition,” I growled, my teeth grinding together.

The captain, looking like he was about to burst a blood vessel, slammed his fist on the table. “That’s enough!” he yelled. “The decision is final. Lieutenant, you’re gonna train them, and you’re gonna do it like a professional. Or else.”

Now, Red was looking at me like I just sprouted a third eye, and Dickhead’s got that smug look on his face like he has just been validated.

I seethed, my teeth clenched so hard I was sure I was gonna break a few. “Fine,” I growled through gritted teeth.

Red let out a sigh of relief that could’ve put out a fire and with a dismissive wave of his hand, the captain signaled the end of the meeting. As we walked out of the office, I heard him mutter something about ‘keeping things civil.’

Yeah, right.

Out in the hallway, I tried to shake off the tension, take a deep breath.

“Well, that was fun,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

The point was to be playful, but holy shit, if Red was throwing daggers with her eyes before, her glare was now at level ten.

“Yeah, it was a blast ,” she said, her voice flat, defeated. Made me want to punch something even harder. Better than the silence, though.

But of course, Dr. Asshat just couldn’t let anything slide without being a colossal prick about it. He scoffed, rolling his eyes like he was some high and mighty piece of shit.

“Oh yeah, real barrel of laughs, training with you,” he taunted.

I felt my blood boil so hot it was a wonder it didn’t explode out of me. Without another word, I lunged forward, my fist connecting with his smug face before he even had a chance to react. Blood spurted from his nose like a fucking faucet, and he stumbled back, cursing and trying to get his bearings.

“You wanna see what I’m capable of, you fucking piece of shit?”

Red gasped, looking like she was about to melt into the floor, which sucked, because I actually felt kinda bad for her, being stuck with her ex all the time. But Dr. Asshat just smirked and decided to open his mouth again.

“Aren’t you the comedian?” he sneered, the blood streaming down his face only seeming to fuel his arrogance. “What are you gonna do, tough guy?” he continued, that smug-ass grin plastered on his face like it was glued there. “Throw a tantrum like a little bitch?”

And just like that, we were back to square one, with no real resolution in sight.

I could practically taste the bloodlust on my tongue, the overwhelming urge to pummel this sorry excuse for a man into the ground.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes? Let’s see how funny you are when you’re six foot under,” I spat.

“Oh, scary,” he mocked, wiping the blood from his busted lip.

That was it.

I didn’t bother with words this time. Instead, I lunged forward again, my fist aimed straight for his gut. He grunted, doubling over in pain, but he was quick to recover, swinging a wild punch at my head.

I ducked easily, the adrenaline surging through me. This? This was the shit I lived for. The raw, primal violence.

He might’ve fought back, but it was like watching a goddamn chihuahua trying to take down a rabid pitbull with rabies. Pathetic.

Blood was everywhere—on the walls, on the floor, smeared across my knuckles. But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not until he was on the ground, a bloody fucking mess.

“Fuck you,” I spat, standing over him like a conqueror.

He groaned, tried to push himself up. My boot found his ribs, shoving him back down where he belonged.

“Rogue, stop!” Red’s voice cut through the chaos, but I barely registered it.

The punches kept coming. Fist after fist, smashing into his face, his gut, wherever the fuck I wanted. And it felt good . So goddamn good.

Time blurred. Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? I didn’t fucking know. All I saw was red. All I felt was the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh giving way under my fists.

And then suddenly, Red was there, her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. Her eyes were wide, horrified.

“Rogue, what the hell?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.

Then, suddenly, it was over. He was a bloody, broken mess on the ground, whimpering like the pathetic worm he was.

I shrugged her off, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “I took care of your fucking problem,” I snarled, my words laced with bitterness.

She shot me a glare that could freeze hell over. “You call this taking care of it?” she snapped, gesturing to the bloody, broken mess of her ex.

I laughed, a bitter, cold bark that had no humor behind it.

“You’re welcome.”

But instead of aiming all that anger at the asshole who made her life a living hell, she turned that shit on me.

“Fuck you, Rogue.”

I raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the venom in her voice. “Oh, now you’re pissed?” I scoffed, feeling the bitterness curdle into full-blown rage.

Her eyes were blazing, practically on fire, and all that anger was directed squarely at me. “Violence isn’t the answer,” she spat, her voice echoing down the empty corridor.

The molten anger in my chest surged higher.

She didn’t fucking get it .

“Oh, and what the fuck would you have me do, huh?” I snapped, my fists clenching at my sides. “Sit back and let that piece of shit walk all over you?”

She stepped closer, her eyes boring into mine. “No, you idiot,” she hissed, her eyes drilling into mine. “I would have expected you to be better than this.”

Better than this.

Better than defending her? Better than putting that asshole in his place? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After everything he’d done to her, after all the hell he’d put her through, she still had the balls to feel sorry for him?

When she tried to help him up, I shoved her away.

“Don’t,” I growled, my voice a low, guttural snarl. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

She didn’t say shit, just gave me that look—those fucking eyes, full of disappointment, full of hurt. Like I was the one that hurt her, like I was the monster here.

“No,” I spat, my chest heaving with the effort of holding back the urge to pummel him again. “He doesn’t deserve your help.”

But she wouldn’t quit. Her voice softened, that bleeding heart of hers creeping in.

“He’s hurt, he needs—”

Tears welled in her eyes, and for a split second, I almost let up. Almost. But then I remembered the pain in her voice, the fear in her eyes every time she talked about him.

“No,” I said, my voice a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to keep feeling sorry for him.”

With that, I shoved her away, hard. She stumbled back, catching herself against the wall, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Disgust. Disdain. As if my mere existence was an affront to her delicate sensibilities. As if I was the problem. As if I was the fucking monster in all this.

I wasn’t the enemy here.

I gritted my teeth, the taste of blood in my mouth from where I’d bitten my lip in the frenzy of it all. How the hell could she still defend him? After everything he’d done to her?

“You both deserve each other,” I muttered, the words burning in my throat. They tasted like shit, but I meant them.

I turned my back on her, couldn’t even look at her anymore. I walked away, leaving them there, him crumpled on the floor and her standing in the aftermath of his bullshit. Let her deal with the fallout.

I was done. Done with him, done with her, done with the whole fucked-up situation.

I couldn’t wrap my head around her fucking hero complex. Always playing the savior for the ones who hurt her the most. The bastards who treated her like shit, who left her broken and bleeding. And there she was, with her bleeding heart, trying to stitch them back together like some fucking saint.

I hated Red. Hated her for still feeling sorry for him. Hated her for making me feel this rage, this fucking hurt.

She’d go to wat for anyone, except me. I was just the lowlife scumbag who didn’t deserve an ounce of her pity or compassion.

Very well. I’ll be the villain.