Killer

Like the flip of a switch, the sound of my name on her lips turns my good mood dark, sending frigid blood pumping to my black, shriveled heart. I can’t stop the sneer that spreads across my face. “My name is Killer.”

Britt’s eyes narrow and her pert nose wrinkles up. Before she can argue, someone bangs loudly on the door. Neither of us can look away, sapphire versus gray, trapped in a bizarre silent standoff. I watch as a deep blush stains her cheeks and she finally drops her gaze, those long lashes brushing her skin.

“Oh god. Someone probably heard us,” she whispers. Britt pushes off the table, searching for her shirt. Finding it hanging off of a nearby bench press, she shrugs it on. The loud banging begins again. Shoulders back and head high, Britt marches over to open the door.

“Wait!” I grab her arm, not sure what just happened to change the energy between us from blazing hot to ice cold. I only know that something feels wrong. If I let the moment end like this, everything will change, and not in a way I find acceptable.

Britt stares at the spot where my hand grips her arm and flicks her gaze up to my face. An odd look flashes in her eyes, gone before I can analyze what it means.

“What do you want, Killer?” Her pretty mouth twists into a sneer as she spits out my name.

What do I want?

It’s obvious Britt wants me to let her in, to drop the mask and let her see the real me. What Britt doesn’t know is that Keller is dead and gone. Killer is the real me, he’s all that’s left in this shell of a body. I lower my hand, unable or unwilling to explain my past. It’s better Britt thinks I’m an asshole than for her to know what I truly am, what I did.

The pounding gets louder, more determined. Frustrated with myself—for hiding, for letting Britt down, for being a coward—I march over to the door and fling it open. “What the fuck do you want?”

An irate Jackson Wolfe shoves his way in, kicking the door shut behind him. His eyes are wild and his chest is heaving.

“Jack?” Britt moves closer. “Aren’t you supposed to be fighting soon?”

Wolfe’s crazy eyes flick from me to Britt and back. “What the hell were you doing to her in here, you sick fuck?” he snarls, shoving his way into my personal space.

Already agitated from the thought of losing Britt, and thrown off by her calling me by my real name, I step forward, bumping chests with Wolfe. “None of your fucking business, douchebag.”

Wolfe’s eyes widen, shocked to actually hear my voice since I almost never speak to him. He sneers, putting up his fists as if to fight me.

“Jack,” Britt jumps between us. “Are you crazy? You’ll be kicked out of the league.”

“Britt, this guy is a sick piece of shit. Can’t you see it? The thought of him touching you—”

“Is none of your business,” Britt interrupts, her voice firm.

My blood pressure is sky high, my pulse throbbing in my temples, and my carefully composed façade cracks. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Wolfe?” I step forward, forcing him to step back. “Get the fuck out of here before I hurt you.” My still-wrapped hands curl into fists. Adrenaline courses through my body, starting in my core and quickly radiating outward until my limbs buzz with energy.

Only two things make me feel alive, Britt and fighting. If Wolfe doesn’t get out of my face, he’s going to meet the real me he claims to see. The unleashed version, not the tame, restrained one he’s encountered at the gym.

“You motherfucker,” Wolfe growls.

He leaps, arms swinging. I see it happening a split second before it becomes reality. There’s not enough time for me to pull Britt out of the way, and goddamn it, she’s always in the way! The pussy that he is, Jack shoves me instead of throwing a punch. As I stagger to maintain my footing, my elbow makes contact with the side of Britt’s head and she falls to the floor. The sound of her skull smacking on the solid concrete will haunt my memory forever.

“Oh fuck!” Wolfe shouts, panicking. He attempts to kneel down next to her, but I push him back, so furious I’m bordering on homicidal.

“Go get Gabriel, you fucking idiot!”

I cradle Britt’s head in my lap, pushing her long blonde hair off her face. Feeling around her skull with my fingers, my hands come up clean. No blood. Right as Gabriel bursts through the door, Britt’s eyes roll back in her head and she begins convulsing.

My heart leaps into my throat as her small body begins to thrash on the floor. “Protect her head, Killer!” Gabriel turns to shout at Wolfe. “Get the paramedics in here! They should be in the medical room.”

Wolfe takes off to get the medics as Britt continues convulsing. I hold her head as still as possible without accidentally injuring her neck. The tremors continue, and with each passing second a long buried part of me struggles to surface. The human part, the part with emotions and messy, complicated feelings. I failed Kinsey. I wasn’t there to protect her. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be here for Britt.

Uniformed medics rush into the room, working together, lifting Britt onto a stretcher. I watch, helpless, tugging at my hair as they strap her down.

“I’m riding with her,” I insist, finding my hoodie and pulling it over my head.

Gabriel gives me a withering look, which I challenge with one of my own. “Fine, meu filho. Stay with her. I’ll meet you at the hospital after the press conference. I’ll make your excuses.”

The paramedics wheel her out as I stuff my feet into my unlaced shoes. I hurry to keep up, shoving gawkers out of the way in the crowded hall. They load her up and I swing up into the back of the ambulance, sitting next to the stretcher. Outside, I catch a glimpse of Wolfe, his face drawn and pale, and decide then and there that he will suffer for what he did to Britt.