Page 10 of Fractured Future

The heart-wrenching sound of her screaming my name through sobs is too much to take. Still, I can’t shake Gael off to reach her. For an older male, he’s unbelievably strong.

“I don’t have room for disobedient products in my business,” Mr Gael explains like we’re discussing a fucking car purchase. “Thankfully, I have multiple ventures, and I enjoy brave animals.”

“I am not an animal!” I spit at him.

His lips twitch in a smile. “You will be with a little training.”

“Let me go!”

Barking at his men who are moving to assist a semi-conscious Diego, Luis curses at the madness that’s engulfed the room. The other customers have scuttled far back now.

Yet he doesn’t seem surprised that Mr Gael is the one imprisoning me. With a head shake, Luis dashes over to us, his eyes now blown wide in concern.

“Antonio, please allow me to apolo?—”

“I’ll take her,” he interrupts.

Luis halts, his mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been a while since we had a product with a backbone. I have a use for her.”

“Well…”

“And it’s Mr Gael, Luis, as you rightly know. Enough bumbling. The others may fight over the weeping virgin. I’ve made my choice.”

Attention landing back on me, Mr Gael flashes white teeth that could be pincers for all the dread the sharp points inspire.

“You will be my new champion, 768.”

CHAPTER 1

EMBER

TEAL – WUNDERHORSE

SIX YEARS LATER

Ducking the hastily thrown blow,I bob excitedly on my feet. My opponent—a towering Brazilian with more scars than skin—is determined to punch my lights out.

Fortunately for me, he isn’t the first over-muscled dickhead I’ve dealt with. In fact, I’ve lost count of how many street fights I’ve won against stubborn, idiotic men just like him.

Mr Gael always chooses my opponents extremely carefully. No one ever bets on the willowy redhead when there’s a boulder-sized man promising to put her down.

It’s all an intricate scheme. Mr Gael is cunning like that. He places underhand bets that raise the odds against me and reward him with a greater payout each time I win.

Despite the millions I’ve undoubtedly won him over years of fighting, I haven't earned my freedom. Only a few less beatings and whippings. Protection from the assaults that other guards indulge in. And moderately better living conditions than the other women in his possession.

Unlike those women—hollow-eyed and silent when they’re summoned to work at one of his parties—I exist solely to fight.Nothing more, nothing less. He stayed true to his word when he proclaimed to have a purpose for me.

It was a long time before he rolled me out for my first bout in a seedy, underground fight club somewhere in southern Mexico. Months of lessons taught with fists and broken bones gave me enough skill to survive. Barely.

Mr Gael’s operation is the definition ofdo or die.I had to adapt fast to survive. Learning how to fight dirty and obliterate my opponent became more necessary than breathing.

I drink spilled blood now.

Not oxygen.

The sweat-soaked Brazilian charges towards me. It’s a pathetic move. As I suspected, he’s allowing rage to cloud his judgement, and that will be his undoing. I’m quick to dodge sideways.