Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance

They will be Pavo.

Because when their long, privileged lives are over, the Devil will stand before them, ready to claim their souls, and they will tremble.

Because they are the losers in the end. Not me.

And then… just as I think those words, something weird happens.

The Lectra takes hold again. I am back in the bathhouse. The little girl has already told me to run. I am running. Feet slapping on the wet tiles. Slipping around corners. Breathing heavy. Screaming when they catch me.

They are all screaming.

We are all screaming.

And then I see a face…

But it’s not a face.

“Hey, you still with us, buddy?”

I blink and I’m back. Me. Strong, tall, muscular, deadly me.

I’m not that little boy. I haven’t been him for a very long time.

I am the Ring of Fire World Champion.

I am the winner.

I am free.

I blink again and then Lazar is suddenly in front of me. And all I see is his stupid blond hair.

The Lectra takes over my fists and they are pounding him as the room erupts into chaos.

The next thing I know I’m running down the hallways of the ship. Maart, Rainer, and Evard are all following me, yelling for me to stop.

But I don’t stop.

Time skips and then keeps skipping and a helicopter is landing outside. It makes the air thump.

I pass by a glass wall and glance at my reflection. I am covered in blood. Not just Lazar’s blood, but the blood from Pavo. And probably Anya’s blood too, because the next thing I know, I’m in a room. A closet, actually. And Anya is on the floor at my feet. Bloody. Not fresh blood, all dried up and crackling on her skin.

She is asleep.

No, she is not asleep.

She is unconscious.

I remember now. I took her out of the room with me after we had sex. Maart and Rainer were in the shower. I think I passed out. Anya did, for sure. But then I woke up and she and I were alone.

So I picked her up then and I pick her up now. I walked her out of my room then, and I walk her out of this closet now. I hid her then, but now… I reveal my plan.

“What are you doing, Cort?” That’s Rainer. And he’s asking that question in a reasonable way. But when I don’t answer and just keep walking, his tone changes. “What the fuck are you doing, Cort?”

“Is she… dead?” That’s Evard. He’s panicked. He doesn’t understand what I’m doing.

And neither do I.

Not really.

But I’m gonna do it anyway.

“Cort.” That’s Maart. “Cort, you have one more camp on the Rock and then we’re done, brother. Do not fuck it up now. Do you hear me? Cort!”

I ignore him. I carry Anya’s unconscious body in my arms, trying to find my way back up to the deck.

And I do find my way.

I always find my way.

Then the helicopter is there and I’m carrying my new limp, unconscious prize towards it. My father is standing in front of the door, shaking his head. I don’t have any idea how much time has passed since I beat the living fuck out of Lazar, but it’s been a while, because the sun is rising.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t hear Udulf’s words. The spinning rotors are far too loud. But I can read lips like a fucking champ.

Still, I don’t answer him.

“Cort. What the hell? Lazar is already pissed off enough about how things ended last night. You can’t have her. I need her.” He reaches for me—for Anya, actually—one arm extended to bar my entrance to the helicopter. “Cort! I’m talking to you! Put her down!” I check him with my shoulder, climb in, drop Anya onto the seat, point at the pilot and shoot him a look that says, You had better take off now, motherfucker. Or I will kill you and make a scene you will remember well into your next ten lives.

We lift off the ground. Udulf is still reaching for me when I kick him back with one flat foot to the chest and he slams into the concrete.

The same concrete where I killed Pavo to the song of pounding tribal drums just a few hours ago.

And I salute that fucker.

Good game, that salute says.

Good game, asshole.

But it’s over now.

And I have declared myself the winner.

CHAPTER SEVEN - ANYA

My dreams are blue.

They are always blue on the Lectra. But the blue is nothing more than a day on repeat.

That’s how I dream on the drink. Everything repeats.

I am profoundly thirsty when I’m startled awake by a deep keening noise, followed by a series of sounds that could be whistles or some kind of alarm.

What fresh fucking hell is this?

I push my ratty hair out of my face and open one eye to find a water-stained concrete ceiling. Then I close it again and just lie there, not even wondering where the hell I’m at, or what the fuck that noise is, because the whole thing is blue Lectra and that’s just the way of dreams when I’m in the blue…