Scorpion

Earlier that day

It’s been over 3728 days since Zalak left.

Finally she’s here. In my city. Right in my line of sight.

Zalak Bhatia. My little Lieverd. The girl I fell in love with before I even heard her voice. The girl I lost before I got a chance to say goodbye. No last kiss. No last touch. Nothing but silence.

Now I’m watching her get beaten within an inch of her life.

Golden brown skin bloody and bruised, her black hair whips from side to side with each move. I wince when the brute’s fist collides with her jaw. It’s hard to stomach, but I stay there, holding back a grimace every time a strike lands on her.

It isn’t the first time I’ve seen her fight, and I doubt it will be the last. If I have any say in it, she’ll never need to throw a punch again until her foot is all healed up and in a state where nobody can see her weakness.

“She’s got good form and bad footwork,” Sergei appraises beside me.

I nod. I wouldn’t jump into a decision to hire her if my right-hand man and head of security thought I’d just be putting her life in danger. Her kill stats with a rifle speak for themselves. He needs to determine whether I’ll be able to sleep peacefully at night, or if I’ll be too busy worrying that she can’t hold her own outside of a ring.

“She’s already better than most of our men.”

Never in a million years did I think I could say that my Zalak could take my own soldiers in a fist fight. Yet there she is, giving a man twice her size just as much hell. I just need to convince her that she doesn’t need to live a life where she’s spending her nights in an underground fighting ring just to survive.

Sergei scrutinizes her, leaning back against the wall that would dirty my coat in a way I have no interest in. “Fast. Decent hook. Mediocre recovery. I think she’ll need minimal training once she fixes that foot of hers.”

That sounds like approval to me.

Zalak needs medical treatment, and she’s not going to get it even if a pile of cash drops on her lap and someone tells her she needs it.

I tried looking for her but she kept jumping from city to city, never staying in one place for too long, and always paying cash. I thought she might have been running from someone. It turns out she’s just running from herself.

As horrific as it is to admit, I preferred it when she was serving in the military. At least then, I could check on her every day to see where she was stationed, what kind of missions she was being sent on, and gauge how she was by her and her team’s reports. These past two years, the signs of life were few and far between. The videos I managed to get of her fights served as the only proof that she was still upright. Even then, I wasn’t convinced she was.

Zalak’s eyes might still be the same dark brown they’ve always been, but now they’re empty, and it kills me that she’s become nothing more than a ghost. I remember seeing pictures of her before her team was attacked. She used to be packed with muscle and exude power. Now she’s little more than skin and bone.

All of that needs to change.

As soon as I found out she returned, nothing would have kept me away. It’s taking me too long to figure out how to reel her in and get her within my grasp where she won’t despise me for taking her in. She was mine before and it’s time to make her mine again, because I was always hers. I have been since day one.

All it took was for someone to kill my bodyguard, and the idea fell right into my lap.

Zalak is stubborn and relentless. She hated being coddled, and I can only imagine how foreign it would be to have someone take care of her. It kills me to think how long she’s been alone for. Suffering in silence because she thinks no one would be there to listen. I would’ve been there even if I had to crawl to get to her.

I may have needed to deal with the loss of my parents too, but the difference between us is that I had people around me to get me through. If it weren’t for Sergei to keep the cogs ticking and to point me in the right direction, I doubt I would have made it out.

I had purpose and support. I want that for her too. She deserved the world back when she thought her parents ripped it away from her, and she deserved it when the people she loved were.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter and look away when H-Brawn knocks her off her feet.

I train my eyes on Zalak’s near lifeless form as the crowd goes wild. The monstrosity on legs roars, holding up both arms in victory. I roll my eyes. They’re always so cringey when they win. The times I’ve seen Zalak victorious, she stretches her neck from side to side, then walks straight out of the ring like it’s just another Thursday.

Only this time she can barely get herself up. Her bad leg trembles beneath her weight as she hobbles out. My blood rises three degrees from the jeers and leers thrown her way. I just want to run over and help her the rest of the way, but I know well enough that it’s the worst possible thing I could do.

We hang back as the crowd readies for another round of bloodshed. Someone hands Sergei a pile of cash and I glare at him.

He shrugs, tucking his winnings into his jacket pocket. “The odds weren’t in her favor.”

I scoff, shaking my head as I head toward the exit. I put ten grand on her to win.

“Let’s bring my girl home.”