Ruin (The Rhodes 1)

As soon as the door clicks behind me, I connect my fist with a wall. Rippling pain courses through my knuckles. Yet, it does nothing to freeze my chaotic brain.

“Fuck!”

No one provoked me enough to trigger those memories. Why does Mae have the power to bring it all back with the mere muttering of ‘insane’? Or is it the sincerity behind the word? Does she really think I’m insane?

I’m losing myself.

This can’t go on. I need someone

to punch.

. . . . .

“Is that all you’ve got?” I jab at Tristan, but he jumps back against the ring’s ropes, avoiding it. With a swift movement, he takes a neutral position. Before I could predict his next attack, he lands a low crippling hook into my stomach.

Our harsh breaths are muffled by the other guards’ shouts, training in the adjoining rings. Male musk wafts in the air.

Tristan grins. “Less talking, more working, shall we—”

My quick uppercut connects with his jaw. His sports’ shoes squeak as he loses his footing. He barely catches himself before he falls out of the ring.

I smile, tasting the saltiness of sweat. “Admit it. You’ve become an old man, Tristan.”

“I’m only two years older than you, little brother.” He smirks as we encircle each other, like Knight and King before a heated fight.

Tristan attempts to right cross me, but my firm-placed arms forbid him any points.

“Why are you taking Silver out lately? I thought you didn’t get along.”

My left hook misses at his question. He smiles wider, jumping in place. I’ve lost count of how long we’ve been boxing. His shirt, like mine, is soaked with sweat.

“We’re working on that,” I rant.

His reverse hook almost penetrates my side muscles. I grit my teeth at the pulsating pain. Before I can recover, an uppercut slams into my jaw nearly breaking it and spilling my teeth on the ground.

Fucker.

He distracted me with Mae’s bloody mare. I came here to forget about my attempt to kill her.

I jab my bandaged fist at his head. He pushes me back with his arms and raises his palms.

“That’s enough,” he heaves, throwing his weight on the floor. “We’re both exhausted.”

With a towel on my shoulder, I sit across from him. “You called it quits, it’s my win, old man.”

After taking large gulps from the bottle, his mouth glistens with sweat and water. “We both know I was about to knock you out, little brother.”

I snatch the bottle from him. “I’m faster than you. You could’ve never knocked me out.”

“Normally that is.” He leans back on his elbows. “Today you’re distracted.”

Silence falls between us. The shouts of the guards in other rings take over. Kane is kicking Xan’s arse in karate. Good.

“So?” There’s no mockery in Tristan’s voice. He looks at me the way Uncle Alexander used to. It doesn’t help that he inherited all his physical traits. “There’s something changed about you that I can’t pinpoint. You seem... different.”

“I’m not different.” I throw the bottle away and wipe at my neck.

“You frequently visit my wing. You work from home a lot.” He tilts his head to the side. “It’s been more than three weeks since Crow and you still haven’t asked for a target. That’s different.”