Destroyed(52)



After I hurt him.

My mind swam with Clara. The crushing weight of missing her kept me glued to the carpet. I would never forgive myself if I failed her.

Swallowing hard, I tiptoed toward Fox’s bedroom. Pressing copious amounts of codes on the keypad, I finally figured out the right one. Turned out I hadn’t memorized it very well.

The lock clicked open, and the door handle turned easily in my hand. The moment I entered the room, there was no turning back. I would tell the truth. I would force him to listen. And I had no clue how he would react.

What are you doing, Zel?

I honestly couldn’t answer that question. I truly didn’t know. The risk of coming back to a man as unstable as Fox was suicidal. It wasn’t just the allure of money that brought me back. Yes, my heart never stopped bleeding at the thought of losing Clara, but something else drove me, too. Something, I didn’t like. Something, I couldn’t ignore.

Pushing the door open, I strode in, eyes zeroing in on the bed.

Empty.

My heart raced as I moved forward. The black decorated room was vacant. Sun danced on bronze and iron, glittering off statues of wolves and faceless boys. All around me I felt the threat of pain held tight in the metal sculptures.

A shield hung on the wall to my left, glinting with symbols and careful etching. The markings summoned me, whispering of a story—maybe a key to Fox.

Every chisel line looked angry, too deep, too filled with violence. Three Russian words caught my attention, scratched with no finesse, looking angry and sinister.

Letting my bag fall off my shoulder with a soft thud, I reached with inquisitive fingers to trace the foreign letters. I wished I understood what they meant.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up; my heart galloped. There’d been no sound, no hint that anything dangerous had entered the room, but my senses knew.

I stepped back from the metal shield, looking toward the bathroom door.

Wide open, with a cloud of steam billowing behind him, Fox stood glaring at me.

My stomach twisted drinking in his tight posture, the dampness of his hair. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. His gaze was so intense it pummelled me from across the room. So many questions, so many accusations lived in his snowy depths.

I thought I’d never see you again.

Our deal is broken.

Leave.

Run.

I don’t want you here.

I tried to communicate just as silently, showing him just how pissed off I was, but that I understood, too.

You hurt me, but I came back.

You owe me for what you did.

I hate you, but I want to help you.

The silent conversation ended with Fox standing taller, drawing my eyes down his fully clothed body. His messy dark-bronze hair dripped moisture onto his shoulders, but his toned body was encased in a black sweater and black cotton trousers.

He dressed even thinking he was alone—why? I could understand physical shyness—even though he had no reason to be shy with his physique, but I couldn’t understand the need to hide whatever existed beneath his clothing.

I spoke before I consciously made the decision to communicate. “What happened to you?”

His jaw was swollen, and one eye had a large cut beneath it, all puffed and purple. Blood crusted his hairline and he kept an arm tight against his side, protecting either his organs or ribs.

I balled my hands, fighting the urge to nurse him as he shuffled from the doorway toward the bed. He never took his eyes off me.

The energy in the room sparked and fizzled with awareness. I’d never been so in-tune with someone before—regardless if I lusted for them or hated them.

I bit my lip as he hissed in discomfort, lowering himself from standing to sitting on the bed. Despite his obvious pain, there was something different about him.

Gone was the fine edge of…I didn’t know… power, hatred, poise maybe? He lacked the tense fierceness, the tightly reined control. Before, he looked like he could reap Armageddon, now he looked…relaxed. He looked tired.

The man before me was… content. A strange conclusion for someone bleeding and breathing shallowly, but his white-grey eyes weren’t haunted. They were clear and focused and angry.

My heart fluttered, drawn to the damaged, magnetised to the need in him. Seeing him vulnerable wilted away my anger.

Carefully, he swung his legs onto the bed and reclined against the black fluffy pillows. His eyes trailed over my body, taking their time, branding me.

The bruising in my core turned from aching to throbbing.

You came here to scream at him. Don’t fall into the trap of attraction.

Sucking in a determined breath, I stomped to the end of the bed and clutched the gnarly tree bed-end. The cold metal gave me something to focus on. I glowered. “You hurt me last night. I came back to tell you exactly what I thought of you—to inflict some pain in retribution, but I see karma works fast and someone beat me to it.”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t reply.

Fine, if that was how he wanted to play. “Want me to guess how you came to be bruised and beaten? You want to know the truth about me…well, I want to know the truth about you. If I had more sense I would never have come back, but lucky for you I care about someone more than myself, and I’m doing this for them. I’m earning the money for their future.”

“Well that just makes you f*cking selfless then, doesn’t it?” Fox snarled. “I don’t want to hear about your reservations and regrets returning to me. If you feel that strongly just piss off.”

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