He could feel her silent sobs, a gut-wrenching sadness. Drago had never seen her cry. He spun her around and cupped her face in his hands. As soon as she blinked, the tears slid down her cheeks.
“I can’t let them have her,” she whispered. Her lips were swollen. Even with all the blood and bruises, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago, Belle. I’m going to take care of you. Make things right.”
“How?” There was a pleading quality in her eyes, a fragile innocence under the tough exterior.
“I’ve been in this world long before you. That’s all you need to know.” He ran a hand through her hair, unable to stop staring. How many years had he dreamed of having Belle in his arms? “We’re not doing anything while you’re in this shape. You need time to heal.” He reached down and lifted one of her wrists between them, slowly unravelling the white tape. The condo was impossibly quiet, as if they were in the vacuum of space. They both watched as he carefully worked the tape off.
“I don’t care about me.”
“Well, I do. I’m going to get you cleaned up, and then you can rest. It’s safe here.”
Her breathing started to pick up again, and she took a step back. “No, I have to fix this now, have to find out if I can get a rematch.”
He wasn’t going to humor her. She wasn’t thinking straight. “Against Deadman?”
“Yes!” Her emotions were all over the damn place. One moment fuming, the next barely the shell of a woman.
“I’ve had enough of you, little miss. I’d throw you over my shoulder, but I don’t want to hurt you more than you already are. For once in your life, let someone else help you. Let me help you.”
“And what do you want in return, Drago? Nothing’s free.”
That pissed him off.
But she was right. He wanted something. Wanted everything. But he’d never demand payment.
Chapter Three
Drago didn’t deserve the way she was speaking to him. Belle knew that, but she was freaking terrified, not acting like she should. She gritted her teeth as she stared at him. The pain still rushed through her entire body, making her aware of her own failure. Ignoring pain was one of the reasons her father put her into the fights at such a young age. He noticed she didn’t think about it, ignored it, and kept on fighting through it.
To make him proud, she’d allowed herself to be hurt time and time again, taking hit after hit until her opponent became weak. That’s when she’d strike.
She hated the fights, fucking detested them with every single fiber of her being. They were not her, and she sure as hell didn’t want it to be her way of life. From as young as she could remember, she’d tried to get out of it, but her father wouldn’t allow it.
One fight after another, she didn’t have a choice but to stick it out. There was no one to help her or to look out for her. She didn’t have parents who cared. They used the money she earned to make their own lifestyle better. Their conditional love did a real number on self-esteem, and made it hard to trust anyone. Being used was the norm in her life, and it’s what she’d come to expect.
There was no one and nothing but her daughter.
Her baby.
Her little girl.
All her fire faded as she thought about her failure. She’d never lost a fight in her life. That was a lie. She’d lost one fight and her father made her life after that a nightmare, so she never dared lose again. Now this was her second loss.
This had been for her baby, for her future, and she’d failed.
Pressing her hands to her face, she cried even though her ribs ached. The tears just kept coming and wouldn’t cease. Her little girl. She’d failed her innocent baby.
“Shit, don’t cry. I can’t handle this when you cry,” Drago said.
“I failed her.”
She gasped, pulling away as Drago put his hand on her.
After being used and pushed aside, she’d vowed never to accept a man’s touch again. She didn’t do love, nor would she ever allow herself to fall so easily again. The first mistake could be forgiven, but she wouldn’t be a fool to fall in love a second time.
The only love she had was for her daughter.
Drago held his hands up. “I don’t recall you being this touchy last time I met you.”
“When was the last time I saw you? I can’t remember.”
She was very much aware of who Drago was and his reputation. Who wasn’t? He was a monster, and anyone who went against him left unconscious or in a body bag. She’d watched him fight a few times, marveling at his stamina. It didn’t matter if the fight was ten minutes or an hour, he always looked bored, as if what was happening around him didn’t affect him. Belle had wanted to reach that level—to not be affected by anyone or anything. Her emotions had always gotten in the way. The only thing she’d been able to hide was her pain level.