Tame Me (Broken Heroes 5)

“Yeah, sorry, sweetheart. That’s not happening. My brother put you in my care, and you aren’t going anywhere I’m not. Sit your fucking ass down and wait ’til it’s time to leave.” The words rumble out of my chest, and Sophie starts to shake as if she’s scared.

Then I catch the anger in her eyes, and I know that’s the real reason she’s trembling. I don’t care if she sees me as an asshole, or if she’s with angry me. In the end, it’s all for the better—better if she hates me, thinks the worst of me.

“We’ll be back before it’s time to leave,” Mac announces as he and Dev leave the room. Sophie reaches for the book off the floor as I pull the pill bottle from my pocket. I unscrew the cap and pop one into my mouth, swallowing it down.

My eyes collide with Sophie’s, and I can’t help but speak the words on my tongue.

“Do you still feel safe with me?” I smirk, but that smirk is short-lived.

“It doesn’t matter what you do, Roman. I know you’re good underneath all the bad you portray, and through it all, that’s what I’ll continue to see—the man who rescued me from that cell and saw me—really saw me—when no one else did.”

And just like that, she’s gutted me, ripped me wide open.

She’s still going to care…still going to think she’s safe in my arms.

Chapter Six

Sophie

I’ve been a nervous wreck since discovering just what kind of fight this is. How could Roman put his life in danger like this—and for money, power? When he knows how important he is to me? How safe I feel in his arms?

The tension in the room is so thick, I can barely breathe. Cigarette smoke clings to the air, making me cough with each inhale. The odor of mildew and sweat swirls around me, tickling my nostrils. There has to be at least a thousand people crammed into the basement of this abandoned warehouse.

My gaze swings back over the raised fighting ring in the center of the room. Oh god. My stomach twists into knots. Mac and Devin are flanking me, both pushing against me while the crowd around us makes an attempt to get closer to the front.

Roman is already in the ring, and I watch him cautiously, afraid of what’s to come. He’s swapped out his jeans and t-shirt for nothing but black shorts and shoes. He’s not even wearing boxing gloves, which terrifies me more. Mac simply wrapped some white tape around his knuckles and gave him a slap on the back before sending him on his way.

Who puts themselves in direct danger like this?

Roman’s opponent warms up in the other corner of the ring. He’s huge, about the same height and weight as Roman, and that makes the dread spiraling out of control worse. I try hard to swallow it down, to tell myself I don’t care about him, but ever since meeting him, everything seems to have gotten easier for me.

I close my eyes for a moment and try to focus on my breathing. Roman and his friends assured me he won’t lose, that Roman is the best, but I still can’t control the horror of losing him.

The announcer yells something about bets and the fight starting in one minute, and my eyes pop open again. Dread reaches fever pitch in my stomach.

I can’t watch this. I cover my eyes with one of my hands.

I can’t watch Roman get himself hurt, or worse, killed. I never thought in my life I would wish a man dead, but I hunger for nothing more in this moment. All I want is for Roman to kill the other guy just so I know he’s safe. I’m aware this is a selfish thought, but I can’t help it. I want—no, I need Roman to be okay. I need him to make it out of this alive; otherwise, I might as well be dead too.

A bell rings off in the distance, and the crowd erupts in cheers as Roman meets his opponent in the center of the ring. Both have their hands held up, their fists clenched, protecting their faces. Neither one of them is standing still, but rather jumping around each other on the balls of their feet. It’s almost like they’re taunting each other.

Now that I see them in close proximity to each other, I find that the other guy is a few inches taller and his arms are longer, only adding to the uneasy feeling consuming every fiber of my being. I’m going to lose him…I’m going to lose him because of some dumb fight, and then what? What happens if my father comes for me?

I’m momentarily distracted from my thoughts when they both start throwing punches left and right. They each duck and scrabble around each other. They are moving, twisting, and turning so fast, my eyes can barely keep track of where each of them are.