by Piper Rayne
His life or my own.
* * *
Darius
* * *
Broken. Scarred. I’m a monster. Every night I live for the kill. The ultimate fight. And she’s the angel who can bring me back to life.
There are those around us who want their pound of flesh and blood. And If I don’t pay up... they’ll tear her apart. Her life for mine? Is that a small price to pay? Should I die for the one who showed me who I really am and brought me back from the dead?
Hell knows.
I should have stayed away.
Shatter Me
Copyright © November 2020 by Mallory Fox
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All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this publication only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the copyright holder’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
To my family.
Who love me no matter what.
❤
Author’s Note
Shatter Me is part of a broken romance series intended for mature audiences. This is a revised version especially for the Happily Ever After Collection, to make it not so dark.
Some scenes may still be graphic and contain swearing, dubious and non-consensual situations, and potentially triggering moments. If this type of content makes you uncomfortable, this book might not be suitable for you so please read at your own discretion.
* * *
Love & All Things Dark,
Mallory
❤
1
Darius
She’s watching me again.
I’m standing in the corner, fists clenched, ready to fight, as her eyes rove over me—the way she does when she thinks I’m not looking, taking in my naked, sweat-soaked flesh, studying every plane and angle of slick, solid muscle. Even though I’m all hot and bothered from being under the spotlights too long, I can’t help but glance over to the side of the cage where she waits.
She’s a stunner. All dark eyed and curves for days, with luscious cherry-red lips and cascades of long, silky, jet-black hair. A fuckable, tight body any man in his right mind would want riding his cock…
At that sliver of a thought, my own cock pulses, pushing at the thin material of my shorts. Damn. I shouldn’t think about her body right now. I need to fucking focus considering what’s about to happen.
I avert my eyes dragging them away from her lithe form as her lips move. She’s muttering under her breath again despite being here alone. I like to imagine she’s praying under her breath, beseeching to her god to protect me.
If the cross she clutches at every Friday night, the one hanging from her neck on a silver chain, is anything to go by, she’s a girl of faith. I’ve no idea why but I like the idea of someone trying to protect me. Not that I need protecting. Nothing in heaven let alone earth can safeguard me from this. Nothing at all. No matter how fucking divine.
Still, I don’t mind. She’s a breath of fresh air in this shit hole of a place, part of it’s charm already, and she hasn’t even been coming to The Pit long. It’s been a couple of weeks at most since she started working here. I know because I noticed her, well before she glanced my way, wearing a short little number, flaunting herself at the Twins. Sure, she was going to get the job. Who wouldn’t want to hire her?
That body…
Fuck. I’m hard again.
Alright, enough. Time to fucking focus, Darius.
I glance up and make brief contact with the hundreds of pairs of eyes on me. There are degenerates from all walks of life here but dotted around are the elite wankers who own a stake in this place. You can tell from their tailored suits and the occasional glint of a fancy watch on their wrists, they have it all. As they eyeball me from their lofty status above the steel-caged octagon I’m locked up in. Smirking at me among the throng, cheering, spitting and howling for blood. Screaming for fucking slaughter. I want to tear this fucking cage down and rip those shit-eating-grins off their wanker faces.
One day maybe… not today. Today, I exist to give all the rich bastards in the room what they truly want.
And they want death.
Of course, I’ll butcher some poor fuck for them. If it isn’t me who does the killing it’ll sure as hell be the other guy. The one who’s eyeing me from across the cage right now, squawking and flapping like a cock in a henhouse as if he could be the one to take me down. The chosen one where all others have failed.
He should be so fucking lucky.
I close my eyes.
If looks could kill, maybe… No joke, the guy is glaring at me so hard he looks like he might shit himself.
He sweeps by me. With my eyes closed, I sense and smell him almost too close. A musky aroma that has the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. I keep my eyes shut. I don’t need to see him or the crowd, or anything else until it’s on. And it will be soon. As always, this moment of anticipation between the bell ringing and the unleashing of my fury feels fucking endless. I hate waiting.
The inner demon, a rage I can’t control some days, paces the mental enclosure it’s contained inside. I can’t let it out yet, if I do, it’ll beat that guy to a pulp before the first bell and then the fight would be over.
I can’t let that happen too early.
The Twins, Elias and Alexei Lexington, wouldn’t like that. Every fight needs to be good. Every drop of blood earned. The night needs to last and look convincing or the punters will demand their money back. And no one hates refunding customers more than the infamous ‘Bloodbath Brothers’, psycho twins so named for their fondness of illegal blood sports and violent gambling rackets.
Complete and utter fucking bastards, if you ask me.
I’ve honestly no idea how I ended up fighting for them. They own me. Or at least they think they do. One day I’ll walk out of this hellhole, but for now the arrangement suits me fine. It’s not like I’ve anywhere better to be.
I was born for this, that much I know.
The crowd heckles as tension mounts, and my nose and mouth curl up into a tight snarl. I’m losing focus again. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. Shutting out the chaos. Calming my raging beast.
Soon I’ll have him.
“And now, the fight you’ve all been waiting for. The biggest and bloodiest of the night.” A voice rings out overhead at last. “Are you ready to see hell unleashed before your very eyes?”
The throb of the crowd explodes from above, dying out only as the announcer continues. “Our newest challenger, fighting out of the red corner, a freestyle fighter weighing at 185 pounds, Leighton “Ace” DeSilver!”
Ring-girls parade around the cage. There’s some cheering for my opponent, but mostly they boo as he bellows and bounces around the pit.
“And in the blue corner, the reigning, undisputed champion of The Devil’s Pit, weighing in at 175 pounds, The Notorious, Darius Archer!”
The crowd goes wild—a sound I must admit never gets old. They chant my name over and over and I permit myself a sliver of a grin. It won’t be long now.
The ref comes forward, like he always does right before the start. My eyes are still closed but I know the moment he stops walking and stands between us.
“Alright, boys, you know the drill. Anything goes once the bell rings or until one of you gives up. Do not try anything between rounds or I’ll tear you down where you stand, got it?” I sigh and hiss a yes, but the other guy doesn’t say a word. “You. I need to hear you say ‘yes�
� or get the hell out of my ring.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
“Ok good, we’re ready to go in three, two, one—”
I open my eyes.
The sound of a bell makes the cage behind me reverberate against my spine as I step away. The crowd jeers and their shouts become louder, hollering at me to ‘take him down’ or ‘crucify him’. But I wait while my flashy opponent dances toward me fists raised, stance wide like a rookie, and grinning like a moron.
It’ll be almost too easy to take him down.
All at once he moves.
It takes the barest step left to dodge him, and then he’s back again, gunning for me. I dodge every blow, right then left. I don’t even need to raise my fists. He follows me around the cage like a pathetic puppy, barking to keep up.
Then I take a shot. No fancy footwork for me, just my knuckles in his face.
I hit home.
There’s a crack of bone and a spray of red as I slug him just right causing him to stagger back and grunt. The copper tang of salt and iron fills my nostrils. I lick the blood off my lips and then go in low and hard, up close for a few strikes. And then keep going, pounding him over and fucking over until I finally come to my senses and pull back.
The amount of blood drawn, bones cracked and broken, from one tirade is devastating.
It takes everything I have to control my fury at the sight of it but I manage to. Breathing hard, I wait for him to stagger to his feet. The crowd are wild. They love it.
So does she.
My eyes cut across the crowd of their own accord to see her gnawing at her lower lip, trembling all over, eyes white and wide, cheeks stained crimson. I bet that’s how she’d look if I was buried deep inside her.
She’s fucking beautiful.
She’s the first woman to pique my interest in a long time. Keeping my primal urges in check during this fight is going to be fucking difficult. I’ll have to find some pit whore after this to get any fucking relief. A tight pussy to sink into. Anything to forget about the angel who prays for me every night, religiously. Although, lately, I’ve lost all interest in the others. It’s the angel I want. No one else.
Even the demon inside agrees.
It craves her.
That’s why I can’t control shit right now.
Fuck it. Do I even care?
No.
A couple of rounds in, my opponent has hardly touched me. That doesn’t stop me from delivering blow after punishing blow until he’s barely able to keep upright. This fight is a fucking joke. The only thing that stops me from putting the fucker out of his misery is a stillness in the air that wasn’t there before. That, and the bell ringing.
On the catwalk above between rounds, I find my gaze drawn up there to see Alexei observing me from the private viewing platform with blank eyes. I’m surprised to see him. He must have just arrived. The older twin doesn’t come to The Pit often. Alexei prefers to leave the hands-on business side of things to his younger brother, Elias. Why is he here?
Most probably to keep an eye on his investment.
I crease my lips into my usual trademark smirk but the bastard just stares back intently, first at me and then at the bloody mess of my opponent on the other side of the cage. The corners of his mouth curl downward.
Fuck. He’s pissed.
If I keep on pounding this guy he’s going to die too soon and then all bets are off. Elias knows I can’t control myself. It’s what I’m known for. But Alexei, he likes to make nice for the stakeholders. And despite their whoops and cheers, I’m not giving the bastards watching what they really want.
They want blood, a lot more blood.
And not my opponent’s—they want fucking mine.
The next round I’m slower, sloppier, enough to let myself get punched in the face a few times. Enough for my nose to break and my ears to ring. Enough to make it messy.
Over the noise of the crowd, she gasps and her hands fly to cover her mouth.
I grit my teeth and take it. This is what I’m supposed to do. Let the moron win a few and he’ll keep coming back for more. A few blows to the head and I’m leaning against the cage bars, scanning the crowd for her. Dark eyes full of terror, she meets my unfocused gaze for a split second, and then something inside me clicks. I can’t hold back any longer, it’s been eight fucking rounds already.
I look up to see if Alexei will give me the nod, a sure sign to finish this guy, but he doesn’t move. The bastard just sits there stiff like a statue. Why is he drawing this out? What’s so damned special about this fight?
Behind me, I sense the fucker moving in for another batter of blows. I’ve had enough of this fucking shit show. Eight rounds of getting my head kicked in is plenty in my book. It’s time to end this.
The demon inside me smiles inside as red rage explodes in front of my eyes. I smash the guy across the cage and he slams against the metal, blood running down the side of his head as he falls.
Time to dance, motherfucker.
2
Rae
As a man, he’s bigger than most; but as a fighter, Darius is no less than a titan.
Magnificent. Deadly. A god in the ring.
Fear or desire, I can’t tell which, makes my heart race and my breath catch. My mouth is suddenly dry, and even though I’m not the one who’s in the cage facing him, the one about to be destroyed, I take a step back. My eyes never leaving his perfect form.
I’ve seen him fight before, kill a thousand times, but I’m never ready for this vision of him; a beautiful monster, dripping in sweat and blood, taking the life of another.
He smashes the other guy against the metal of the cage closest to me so hard it shakes. Blood sprays in a hot arc. I have to jerk my head away as some of it hits me in the face, settling on my lips. Then the taste of it is on my tongue, its iron flavor falling somewhere between revolting and repulsive, exactly like the rest of this endeavor.
Nausea rises up. I push it down and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, turning to go. I can’t watch anymore. It’s a slaughter not a fight. It’s against my principles to stand and watch men die. I’m meant to save lives not lose them. Or will be when I finally take the Hippocratic oath.
I may only be a medical student but our principles should be the same, shouldn’t they?
I push my way through the heaving crowds, swallowing the bile in my throat, ignoring the stench of so many bodies crushed together. Most of the regulars are here to bet their week’s wages against the House and win back what they lost on the tables. Because if Darius loses, the payout is one thousand to one.
What a joke. It’s the same every fucking week; watching, waiting for Darius to fall so everyone can get stinking rich. Well, he hasn’t yet. Darius never loses. Each week I’ve been here the format is the same; let the other guy rough him up, then at the last moment pull himself together and annihilate the challenger. It astounds me that no one has figured it out.
Fucking idiots.
As usual, during the fight no one pays me any attention. Oh sure, once the entertainment is over they’ll give me a look that says they want to show me what a real man can do. Until then, I may as well be wallpaper. I take advantage of this now and move through the masses.
I know Alexei is watching me because I can feel his cold eyes boring into me with every retreating step. I suppress a shiver. And against my better judgement, flick my gaze to the box seat. The worst of the psycho twins glances down, his cold, gray orbs meet mine momentarily and I falter. It takes me a second to jerk my gaze away and keep moving, pushing through the sea of bodies until I’m at the rear of the arena. Alexei is not just anyone. He’s my worst nightmare come true and he’s enjoying this, despite his face being completely devoid of any emotion.
Sick bastard.
I offer Darius one last look, casting my gaze back to the fight in time to see him deliver the final blow.
It’s a miracle Darius leaves any of them alive. Every week, I’ve come to watch him fight, and every
week he savagely beats the other guy right up to deaths door for money, just to win. Though, Darius can’t win, not really. This is where people like us lose everything, the Twins saw to that when they started this place. He must know; he must remember who he is even if he acts like he doesn’t.
Is he acting, though?
When we spoke the other day I anxiously searched for it—the recognition. It wasn’t there. He dismissed me as if I was no one to him, nothing important. He didn’t even have the graciousness to acknowledge my father when I casually dropped his name.
Screw him. I need to remember I’m here to do a job and that Darius deserves to rot in this hell of his own making. God knows the last thing I need to do right now is chase a forgotten crush.
Even if that crush is hotter than the sun and draws me in like a moth to a flame?
Even if.
I’m here to find my brother, nothing else.
I step into the dark tunnels that lead off from the arena and head back to the clinic. It’s where I’m meant to wait for my patients after the fight ends. Heading there early will mean I can prep the room. When I get to the clinic, I unlock and quickly set up. There’s a loud beeping from my bag which is hanging from the back of the chair. I reach inside, grab my phone and switch notifications to silent so it won’t keep buzzing incessantly.
I’m ignoring everyone. I’ve already got a load of missed messages from my cousin, Zac, and from my mom. The last one flashes up so I can read it just as I’m about to put my phone away. It’s from Zac telling me to get my ass back home or he’ll make me wish I’d never been born. I scowl at the screen. He’s such a dick sometimes. I’m temped to throw my phone in my bag but another message flashes up from my mother pleading me to call Zac. My heart softens.