Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

“It’s not much, but it’s mine. I’m saving up to get my own place though,” he said, like he needed to justify why he was still living at his nan’s.

I wasn’t one to talk. Twenty-three years old and I was still with my parents. I’d never felt the urge to move out and live on my own. That had never appealed to me before.

“The parties must pay well. I couldn’t afford to rent a single room in Sandland on my teaching assistant wages.” He tensed, and when I looked back at him, I knew he was keeping something from me. “What is it?” I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and bracing myself for the bombshell I knew he was about to drop.

“I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

Oh God, what was he going to say? My stomach was in knots.

“Not that you will freak out,” he added. “That’s not like you, but I need you to keep an open mind. I have no idea what you’re gonna think and-”

He was rambling. He always did when he was nervous.

“Just spit it out, Brandon.” I swallowed the lump that was starting to grow thick in my throat and picked at the varnish on my nails in an effort to distract my racing mind.

“I’ve got a fight on Friday.”

I looked up at him and he was staring right at me, waiting for my reaction, but his statement was so vague. I’d seen him fight before. Why was this time any different?

“I didn’t know you had another party so soon after the last one.”

There was something that flashed in his eyes in that moment. Something like fear, but I could

’ve been wrong.

“It isn’t a party. I’m fighting for Murphy.”

In an instant, the world around me ground to a halt. My legs turned to lead, and a wave of nausea washed over me.

“Why? Why would you fight for him? You know he was working with Brodie?” My breathing sped up and I felt a tingle in the tips of my fingers. “He won’t care about you, Brandon. He doesn’t care. He uses people. Why are you doing it?”

Brandon came to sit next to me and took both of my hands in his to stop me wringing them frantically in my lap. Usually, that would’ve calmed me down, but it didn’t. The thought of Pat Murphy and his fighting ring taking someone else I loved away from me made me feel an irrational fear.

Was it irrational?

Murphy had done fuck all to help us when Brodie died. He’d done fuck all to support Brandon too. But now that Brandon was back and he’d shown he still had skills in his first fight, Murphy wanted in. He was all about the money.

“It’s good money, babe. Far too good for someone like me to turn down.” Brandon looked so humble as he spoke, and I hated that. I hated how he used the term ‘someone like me’. It only highlighted how little he thought of himself.

“But what about your safety? There’s no money in the world that can take the place of that… of you. What if-”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he butted in. “But nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been. I’ve got this.” He put his finger under my chin to turn my head and make me look at him. “Trust me.”

“I do trust you. What I don’t trust is for Pat Murphy to do a decent job and make sure everything goes okay. It’s a dirty sport, Brandon. The fights he puts on are all for the show. He couldn’t care less whether you come out the other side or not. As long as he gets his cut off the back of your pain.”

“I won’t be in any pain,” he said, puffing out his chest. “That’s the other guy’s problem to worry about, not mine.” Then he lowered his head and pulled me into him so I could rest on his chest. “I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d hate it.”

“You couldn’t keep it from me.” I pulled back slightly to argue, but he pulled me closer.

“I knew that too. I figured the money I make off the back of these fights could help us build a decent future. I don’t have anything else I can do, Harper. This is who I am.”

I could have spent the rest of the afternoon talking about all the wonderful things that made up Brandon Mathers. Reminded him of what he had to offer the world that didn’t involve fists and getting hurt. But I knew that wasn’t the point. He didn’t need to hear that from me, not at that moment. What he needed was my support.

“I know who you are.” I laid my hand on his chest and felt the racing beat of his anxiety held deep within.

He took a long, drawn breath, and what he said next made my heart want to burst out of my chest and fall at his feet.

“I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. You’ll always come first with me. Always.”