Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

I heard her chuckle to herself then she shouted back. “And it’s Elsie. Not Mrs Mathers.”

Brandon’s eyebrows shot up.

“She likes you. She only lets close friends and the milkman call her Elsie. Even Ryan hasn’t been given the privilege of first name terms.”

“Wow. I am honoured.” I lifted onto my tiptoes to kiss him and broke into a laugh when I heard her bellowing down the hallway again at us.

“It’ll be Mrs Mathers again if you keep manhandling my grandson at the front door for much longer.”

I ignored her and gave him one last kiss. Then I headed back to my car that was parked at the end of his path.

He leaned up against the doorframe, watching my every move, and he didn’t go in until my car turned the corner out of sight. But driving away, I could still feel him tugging on my heart strings, like an invisible chord tethered us together.

We might not be in the same room or building, but it felt as if we carried a piece of each other wherever we were. I felt like that, anyway. Maybe it was because we owned each other’s hearts. I smiled at that thought and then a wash of dread drench me.

He was going to fight for that man on Friday.

He’d be going up against an opponent and I could do nothing but watch and hope, pray that he came back to me in one piece.

I’d never be that girl who dictated what her boyfriend should and shouldn’t do, but the nerves were already kicking in. How the hell was I supposed to keep this locked down until it was all over? I loved him. The thought of losing him was one I couldn’t bear to think about. If anything happened, my heart wouldn’t recover.

He was mine.

I was his.

So why did I feel like the happiness I’d fought so hard to get was starting to drift away from me?

By the time Friday rolled around, I was buzzing and couldn’t wait to get into the ring again. The fight was taking place at a local boxing gym a few towns over. It was a step up from the spit and sawdust I was used to, and that fact alone made me feel powerful, more important even.

Pat assured me this was just the start for me. Once I’d got a few wins under my belt, it’d be stadiums and then arenas. The world was my oyster, and Vegas was my end goal according to him. He’d filled my head with all sorts of stories; even came round to our house to convince Nan that life was about to change for us. She told him he was full of shit. She wasn’t swayed easily when it came to sweet talkers like Pat. She always had her guard up. Must be where I got it from, because even though I felt honoured to be headlining in a place like this, I couldn’t help but keep my guard up too.

“There’s a good crowd out there,” Ryan said as he came into the changing room I’d been allocated. He looked nervous as he sat down next to me. I don’t know why. I had this one in the bag. Defeat wasn’t in my repertoire.

Finn was busy taping up my hands and Zak stood in the corner, biting his nails.

“It’s gonna be a good fight. I’m fucking ready for this.” I grinned back at them, letting them know they were in for a top night. I always delivered on that score.

“Just stay focused. Hit him hard and knock him the fuck out,” Zak added nervously from across the room. Like I needed his boxing advice. Even his music suggestions were questionable in my opinion.

“You worried about me?” I laughed and flexed my fingers as Finn finished up. It’d become a tradition now for Finn to strap me up. I wouldn’t trust anyone else, and he was like my good luck charm.

We heard the door open, and looked up to see Kian waltz in, carrying a crate of water bottles and banging the door off the wall as he nudged it with his elbow.

“It’s fucking mental out there. Who are you fighting?” He huffed and dropped the water onto the floor next to Ryan’s feet, making a dent at the bottom of some of the bottles.

Every eye in the room turned to glare at me. I knew exactly what they were thinking.

“I’ve no idea. Pat said it was better for me to focus on my training and go in blind.” I knew it sounded like bullshit, but at that point, I didn’t care. I was there for the money.

If I really thought about it though, it was shady. I liked to study my opponents, see where their weaknesses lay. But when I’d questioned Pat about it, he’d shot me down every single time. I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. I was confident enough in my ability and I trusted his judgement call. He said I’d fucking nail it, and I would.

“You know that’s complete and utter bullshit, right? I’ve got a bad feeling about this, mate.” I knew Ryan had my back, but this wasn’t his call to make. I was getting sick and tired of people thinking they knew what was best for me.

“I couldn’t give a fuck who I fight. I’m ready to take anyone on.” And I was. I wasn’t some wet behind the ears punk-ass kid. I was doing what I could to take my career further. I was a hustler, and if that meant I had to do fights like this to claw my way to the top, I would.

“What if he’s built like a brick shithouse? It could be the fucking mountain from Game of Thrones for all you know.” Zak always had the best advice at the best of times. Not.

I wanted to ask him if he thought I’d run away like a loser. I mean, they could have put a bloody lion in the ring and I’d still have had a good go.