Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

The phone rang once before it was answered, and a frantic-sounding Harper spoke first.

“Is he okay? Emily? Has something happened? Is he all right? Please, talk to me!”

I couldn’t answer.

I was stunned into silence for the first time in my God-forsaken life.

She was worried about me.

She was scared for me.

Her first thought had been if I was okay. What was I supposed to say to that?

I stayed silent and passed the phone to Emily, who snatched it from my hand and gave me an evil glare for my troubles.

“Hey, Harper. Yes, he’s fine. He took a hit, but it didn’t knock any sense into him. He’s still an arrogant twat.”

I smiled as she spoke, but my heart was beating faster than it had done only minutes ago during my fight. And that adrenaline rush that I always felt after a match? That was through the fucking roof. I didn’t want to hope for anything. Hope usually ended badly for me, but she had me on her mind and that had to mean something, surely?

“He did see you, yeah. I think it distracted him. Oh God, don’t apologise. You’re the last person who should be apologising. Listen, ring or text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe. Everything is fine. He won. Okay? It’s over.”

Emily said her goodbyes and ended the call. All I could hear was, text when you get home.

“She’s not home yet? You should’ve asked where she was. It isn’t safe for her to be out on her own at night.”

“Who said she’s alone?” Emily said nonchalantly, and then she smirked. “Cool it, Rambo. She’s in a taxi, on her own, and she’ll be home in five minutes. Jeez, anyone would think you really liked this girl.” She winked.

“Maybe I should go after her?” I went to walk away, but Emily grabbed my arm.

“Don’t. I think tonight was enough of an eye-opener for her. Give her time, Brandon.”

What did that mean? An eye-opener? She’d seen her brother fight before. Why was my fight any different? If anything, it would’ve been therapy for her, surely?

“She probably didn’t expect to feel the way she did when she saw you tonight.” Emily elaborated. “It can be quite intense watching you up there. I hate it and I’m not as emotionally invested. She snapped her mouth shut and flinched. She’d said something she felt she shouldn’t have.

“What do you mean, emotionally invested? Have you spoken to her about me?”

Emily shuffled her feet. She was crap at hiding her true intentions.

“We had a few chats on the phone. I just read between the lines. Don’t go reading too much into what I say, big man.” She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw Ryan and Zak coming towards us. “Now, go. Be with your adoring fans and make the most of tonight. It’s not every day you’re made to feel like a living legend.”

“You haven’t lived my life, sweetheart.” I winked, but the bravado I was putting on was for her benefit. Inside, I was a tortured mess of anxiety, and this was the last place I wanted to be.

I don’t know why I went. In some perverse and twisted way, I’d needed to do it to expel a demon that was sitting on my shoulder. What would it be like to see Brandon fight again? Would he show any remorse? Would he be different and more humble, maybe? After what had happened, would it affect him and make him a more guarded fighter?

From the minute he walked into that makeshift ring, he was larger than life. A showman. He had every single person in that room eating out of the palm of his hands, even the ones who were heckling him. They loved him. He loved them. But I hated it. I hated the atmosphere, the overdose of adrenaline and testosterone filling the air, the shouts and catcalls that made me flinch. But most of all, I hated how utterly helpless it made me feel to stand at the sidelines again and watch a fight, feeling like my whole world was about to implode.

I hadn’t expected to feel like that. I thought seeing him would make me angry, and fire up my thirst for revenge, but it did the opposite. It made me nervous, crippled me with anxiety, and just like when Brodie fought, I had to practise my breathing and force myself not to storm forward to stop it all. It was fucking barbaric and it was tearing me apart, still. I couldn’t stand it.

Would I feel like that watching two strangers?

Probably.

But knowing what lay behind that tunnel vision of fury that fired Brandon up made it worse for me.

I cared.

There. I’d admitted it to myself, albeit in my head, but I did care about what happened to him. He’d been through so much; I didn’t want him to have the same ending as Brodie. I couldn’t bear to lose someone else to that sport. If you could call it that. I wanted him to find peace in a different way. I knew he’d be as stubborn as Brodie if he was ever asked to stop fighting. But I hoped that in time, he would find something else that meant more to him than fighting did. He was worth more than that.