Flawed Heart (House Of Obsidian #1)

by Bella Jewel

  I shrug, sipping my beer. “I met Belle, and suddenly that life just wasn’t what I wanted.”

  “You had talent, son. It mustn’t have been easy to give that up.”

  “No, but she’s worth so much more.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever regret that?” he asks seriously.

  “Regret giving up something to gain something better? Fucking never.”

  He smiles, one that reaches his eyes. “Tell me about your plans for the club.”

  I spend the next hour telling him what I plan on doing with the House Of Obsidian.

  What I don’t tell him is that the plans I have for his daughter are so much bigger.

  There’s only one life I want with her, and that’s a fucking beautiful one.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NOW

  ANABELLE

  My heart races as I enter the underground area of the House Of Obsidian. People are roaring, feet are stamping, and money is being waved around. I don’t really like being down here, but I need to see him. The girl at the bar said he was fighting tonight. I know Max fights, but I’ve not seen it, and the very idea terrifies me. I don’t know how I’ll handle seeing that side of him, but I’m not backing down now.

  I push through the crowd until I reach the fighting ring. I can’t see anyone there, so I look left and right, adjusting my short black dress as I scan the crowd. I notice Max near a back door, talking with two men. They all open it and step in, and I know this is my only chance. I shove past drunken, raving people until I reach the door. I test the handle and it’s open, so I push it open and step inside.

  I enter a locker style room, where the three men are all talking amongst themselves. When they hear the sounds of the club flow in, they all turn and look in my direction. Max’s eyes find me first and I give a weak, pathetic smile. His eyes flash with anger and he orders the men out with a grunted command. When they’re gone, he immediately spits angry words at me. “What the fuck are you doing here, Anabelle?”

  Ouch.

  His use of my full name hurts, because it’s something he’s never called me. It’s always Ana, or Belle, or Blue Belle. Never Anabelle. I cross my arms and look at my feet, not sure how to answer without making things worse. I have so much I want to express to him, but I don’t know how to form the words.

  “I wanted to talk to you after the other night,” I say.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  I take a deep breath to cam myself. “We have a daughter, Max, and for her sake we need to do this, don’t you think?”

  He crosses his big arms. “Oh, you think it’s acceptable now? You think you can just barge in and demand that I work this out for the sake of her, when you’ve never even fucking told me about her?”

  “And I made a mistake.” I try so hard to keep my calm. “I’m not saying I didn’t, but we can’t keep . . .”

  “Keep what? Dancing around the truth? You haven’t wanted to fucking speak to me, but now you expect me to just drop it all and listen to you? It doesn’t work like that. I’m not giving you a fucking thing until I’m ready to give it.”

  “Jesus, Max,” I cry. “I said I was wrong, I can admit that, but this fucking game is just child’s play. I thought you were better than that.”

  He stalks towards me, getting in my face. “You wouldn’t know me, Anabelle, because you haven’t been in my life for five years. Now get out of here, or I’ll have you thrown out.”

  “No,” I say, crossing my arms. “Not until you listen to me.”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  He reaches into his pants to pull out his phone. I take a step towards him in protest, but the door swings open and I’m stopped in my tracks. My eyes flick towards the gorgeous, busty blonde that comes in. She doesn’t seem at all fazed that I’m standing in front of Max. No, she just sidles right over and cries out, “There you are, baby. I’ve been calling you.”

  I flinch.

  That burns.

  God, it hurts more than I could have ever imagined.

  “I’m busy,” he spits at her, his eyes still holding mine.

  I turn away. I can’t stand in here and listen to this woman treat Max as if he’s part of her life. I can’t because I don’t want to even think about the fact that she’s been in his bed. Pain grips my chest as I rush towards the door, and the worst thing about it, the thing that hurts the most . . .

  Max doesn’t stop me.

  ~*~*~*~

  I find myself leaning against the wall, staring at the fighting ring. I want to go, I want to just turn around and leave, but I can’t move my eyes from the ring where they’ve just called Max’s name. He’s going to fight. I don’t want to see that, but I can’t make myself look away. My eyes are glued to the space where he’s going to be fighting in a matter of minutes.

  The crowd starts getting wilder as the door opens and Max comes out. He’s wearing only a pair of light exercise shorts and nothing else. His fists are bound and he looks like a wild animal, baring his teeth, panting with rage. It’s as if he wound himself up before he came in here. Maybe I wound him up before he came in here, and right now he’s acting out of pure rage.

  I clasp my hands together and lean forward as the opponent is called to the stage. It’s a man named Raide. I watch in horror and fascination as he walks out. Holy shit. He’s bigger than Max, and that’s saying something, because Max is a big man. This man, he’s like a real life Hercules. He’s tall, muscled as all hell, and has a similar shade of dark hair that goes down and curls up just near his neck.

  Fear bubbles in my chest as the two of them circle each other, both looking deadly and terrifying. When the whistle blows, both men continue circling each other—neither one of them diving for the other. They’re both cunning, and smart, and waiting for the precise moment to launch at the other person.

  It’s Max that takes the first swing, effectively hitting Raide right between the eyes. It takes Raide a moment to gather himself, and he looks dazed for a split second. That’s all Max needs; he drives a fist into Raide’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. The crowd goes wild, roaring and stomping their feet. I shift farther to the left, where a little hall is positioned and is filled with women watching the fight. I find a spot and keep my eye on Max, grateful for a little more quiet.

  I made the assumption that Raide wasn’t an exceptional fighter, because he seemed to be taking quite the beating from Max, but I would be wrong. Raide manages to gather himself and drives a fist up into Max’s ribs as he straightens from his doubled over position. Max takes a wobbly step backwards but manages to stop himself from going over. Raide takes the chance and slams his elbow into Max’s nose. A horrifying split echoes through the room and blood pours from the open wound.

  My stomach turns.

  Tears burn under my eyelids, and I want to vomit.

  It doesn’t stop Max. He continues throwing punches and hitting Raide with a force that’s so full of rage it’s hard to turn your eyes away. The problem is Raide gives it back, equally as hard and deadly. The two are a never-ending pit, both as strong and determined as the other. I look down at my shaking hands and try to control my breathing, but it’s ragged.

  “How hot is Max?” the girl beside me says to her friend.

  “Oh my God, I know. I love watching him fight, but more, I love watching him fuck after a fight. He’s an animal.”

  My tears flow harder and it hurts, God dammit, it hurts.

  “That guy with him is smoking, too. But no one beats Max.”

  “You’re right. Max is a legend, but it’s only because he fights out of broken emotion and not just rage.”

  What the fuck is she talking about? I turn and give her a quick glance. She’s a tall, gorgeous brunette. She’s Max’s type, through and through. If he wasn’t with me, I always picked him with a woman who looks like her.

  “Oh, because you know, Tam,” her friends scoffs.

  “I do know. I was here the ni
ght he had that massive breakdown.”

  Breakdown? I shuffle closer, still keeping my eyes on the ring where Max and Raide are fighting and blood is pouring, and around it the crowd is going wild.

  “I know Max,” the girl says. “I’ve seen him at his worst.”

  “I heard about the breakdown,” her friend says. “But I didn’t see it. What happened?”

  “It was like five years ago, just after he started managing the club. He was married then, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, to that uppity bitch. I can’t even remember her name. She never came here.”

  My heart pinches, because they’re right—I never came here. When Max took over the club, I chose to stay away. It’s why I didn’t even know he was creating a fighting ring. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me, but I assume it was because I was happy not knowing. It wasn’t long after that that he changed. Does this girl know why?

  “I was here the night he came in and beat that man nearly to death,” the girl says to her friend. “He had lost his mind, I swear. He was drunk and God knows what else. One of his security team had the crowd cleared out, but I was in his locker room, waiting for him to finish the fight. I wanted him so badly and had been trying for a while, but he wouldn’t have it. Anyway, you know me, I’m not a quitter.”

  “Slut.” Her friend giggles. “But seriously, what happened after that?”

  “Well, they came in and Max was freaking me the hell out, so I hid. He was smashing things and finally he started telling the security guard what happened to him. He was saying things about a car accident he saw one night when he was driving home from work. He said there was a kid that was thrown from the car and that kid like, died in his arms or something.”

  It feels as if someone has punched me right in the heart. It twists in pure agony. I know there was an accident, Max had told me that he’d witnessed one and had to give a statement to the police, but he never, ever told me he had seen something like that, or lived through it. He said it wasn’t bad. He hid that from me. I didn’t piece it together, because the accident was at least a month before he started running off the rails. He went out one night around a month after, and I swear he came home different.

  Was that night the night this girl is talking about? Did he lose it? Was he suffering before I thought it began? He was working so much after the accident, he seemed normal . . . but then . . . he was so busy, and I didn’t think anything was wrong, so I didn’t pay closer attention. I lived for a month in the same house as my husband, and all the while he was breaking and I didn’t know. If I had known, maybe he would have never gotten worse. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the breakdown that sent him down a spiral of darkness.

  Max.

  Oh God.

  Tears are running down my face right now and I step forward, pushing through the crowd, needing to get out. I need air, God, I feel like I can’t breathe. The world starts spinning around me and my trembling hands shove at people as I try to get past the endless streams of them. It seems as if they just don’t end. I don’t know where I’m going. My vision blurs and I start panting, hands shoving, my body being pushed around.

  The crowd is still roaring, people are still stomping and I’m being thrown about the sea of people as if I weigh nothing more than a sack of flour. People don’t care; they’re just waving their arms, pushing anyone out of their way to get closer. I spin frantically, trying to figure out where I am, to get my bearings, but I can’t do anything but fumble around, tears pouring down my cheeks. People start screaming louder and I lift my head to see Raide drive one last punch into Max’s face.

  My husband goes down, blood pouring from so many different wounds it makes my stomach turn. He turns his head sideways and looks right at me. The tears blur my vision, but I can see his stare penetrating mine. He’s hurt. Oh God, he’s hurt. I start fighting harder, this time in an attempt to get to him, to help him. People are going nuts, but I keep my eyes on Max’s as Raide accepts his win. Max spits blood on the floor and sits up, barking my name.

  I don’t make it to him, because an elbow launches out and hits me right in the eye, making my world go black.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEN – MAX – THE ACCIDENT

  It’s foggy tonight. The cool, crisp weather is causing a light sheen of mist to float around. It’s dark and the only thing I can see on the road is a faded white line. I follow it as best I can, going slow, watching for the other cars and their headlights. I’m not too far from home, maybe five minutes, ten in these conditions.

  I’ve been spending all my time at the club lately. It’s surprised me, because I’m actually enjoying it. I had it re-done with the help of an interior designer. She picked new, bold colors and we came up with a new, more modern take on the old rundown club. I still have a long way to take it, but it’s a start. It took six weeks to re-do, but now it’s open and it’s thriving. People love it and come from far and wide to spend a night dancing and drinking there.

  Aside from questions and asking me how it’s going, Belle hasn’t come into the club, and I don’t blame her. It’s not her scene, but it doesn’t affect me in any way. I don’t expect her to spend her time there, and when we have children, I don’t want them being a part of it. Our life works for us; it’s balanced and fucking perfect. The only part that’s been hard is this right now, and that’s because I’m still hiring new staff and so therefore am spending more time than I’d like at the club.

  I’ve also started an underground fighting ring. I haven’t told Belle about it, because I’m not sure it’s something she’d agree too. It’s not dangerous, and there are only boxing matches, but it’s still fighting and she’s never much liked violence. I set it out underneath the club, also putting down a training area for during the day when the club isn’t open. I let my boxers fight against each other every Saturday night for money, and the men seem to eat it up, betting and enjoying the atmosphere it creates.

  It’s tripled my nightly income, so it’s more than worth it.

  The sound of screeching tires snaps me back to my driving and I see a car launch off the road on the opposite side to me. We’re on a highway, but at this time of night it’s rather deserted. This is the first car I’ve seen. I pull over immediately as the headlights disappear, and jump out of my car. It’s so fucking dark. I go to my trunk and dig out a flashlight, and then I run over to where the car went off the road.

  It must have slipped, or maybe something ran out in front of it. I have no idea why it went off the road like that. My heart pounds as I cross and reach the bank on the other side. I flash my light down, trying to see the car. It’s so fucking dark in the trees that line the road—it’s nearly impossible to see. Adrenaline fills my body and I run down, skidding a little as I slide down the narrow hill. This is a big drop. That’s not good.

  I dodge trees and keep my light on the seemingly broken path the car created. I finally flash it on the silver, crumpled mess. My heart stops beating as I see it, smashed, bent around a tree, smoking. Fear rises up and clogs my throat, and I start running, hard and fast. I pull out my phone as I go, dialing an ambulance. If these people are still alive, they’re not going to be in a good way.

  I manage to get through in a couple of seconds and I bark out what’s happening and where I think I am as I reach the car. I shine my flashlight through the windows but it’s too damned hard to see. The lady on the other line tells me someone will be there soon, and not to move or touch anyone. I hang up and shove my phone back, before taking the door handle and pulling it, over and over. It finally breaks open.

  “Hello?” I call, listening for something, anything.

  I flash my light in and a pained cry rips from my throat as I see the first person, crushed in the front seat. That person is no longer alive, and the graphic scene in front of me has my body going numb with horror. I keep moving, forcing myself to keep on checking. Someone could be alive. I can’t risk missing them. I flash my light around, but the car is bent at odd ang
les, and I can’t see the other side.

  The windscreen is smashed wide open and there seems to be blood over the hood of the car. I run around the other side and try to catch a glimpse through the passenger door. It’s a mangled mess, but I’m sure I can see another person; it’s so hard to tell when the car is such a mess. I call out again, over and over, feeling vomit rise in my chest.

  I leave the passenger side and check the back. There’s nothing in there, but a scatter of toys on the seat has me filling with fear. I run back to the front of the car, where I saw the blood and see it trails down past the car. I move my legs as hard as I can take them until I see another body lying beside a cluster of trees. That body isn’t of an adult, but a young child, maybe ten. I rush over, dropping to my knees and lifting the small child into my arms.

  It’s a little girl. She’s still alive.

  There are wounds all over her body, so many I can’t pinpoint which ones are causing the most bleeding. She’s breathing, but unconscious. Her body is a mess. Pain tears through my chest and fire burns in my heart as I look down at her, holding her in my arms, completely at a loss. Why wasn’t she wearing a seatbelt? I don’t understand. She’s just a child.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I croak, even though she can’t hear me. “Help is coming.”

  She’s still in my arms, and her breathing is becoming shallower. Tears burst forth and start rolling down my cheeks as I stare down at her face. She has black hair, beautiful, thick. Such a precious gift. She shouldn’t be here, lying, injured in the dirt. She’s just a child. What were her parents thinking? Why the hell didn’t she have a seatbelt on? Did she take it off?

  “Why didn’t you have a seatbelt on?” I croak. “Why, sweetheart?”

  I hold her close, trying not to move her, trying not to make anything worse.

  “Help is coming. Hang on.”

  The sound of blaring sirens cuts through the horror, and before I know it flashlights are shining in my direction. “Hello?” someone calls.