Page 43 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

ELIA

My grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles rigid. Adrenaline surged, forcing my mind to stay sharp. Fear? I didn’t feel it, though I knew I should.

The road snaked alongside the river. By day, the water shimmered in vibrant blue, but now it was an endless black void, swallowing every trace of the crescent moon’s light. No reflections, just darkness.

The drive’s monotony only made it harder to keep my thoughts in check, my mind drifting to what I was about to face.

Lucien Voss was a mirror image of his younger brother—same size, same cocky stride.

Word had it he trained in his own private gym, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d had private lessons in combat.

But a guy like him? His ego would trip him up.

I’d read him like an open book before he even threw his first punch.

I knew he’d fight dirty, so I had to be ready for anything.

But no matter what, my focus was on Claire—she came first.

As I got closer to The Cove, something flickered in my rearview mirror—a pair of headlights, too close. They hadn’t been there a few miles back. A tail. I cursed under my breath, glancing at the road ahead and trying to keep calm. No sudden moves.

I pulled into the gravel lot by the abandoned restaurant.

The car behind me rumbled up and parked just a few feet back, its engine cutting off with a growl.

Three men stepped out, their shapes large and threatening in the darkness.

I pushed the door open. The cold air hit me, but it did nothing to quell the heat in my veins.

The men advanced—familiar Voss faces, though Lucien wasn’t among them. Their hands were empty, but they shifted their jackets just enough for me to catch the glint of weapons. One of them slammed me up against the side of my car.

“Good to see you again, Lucas,” he sneered, his hands rough as the others patted me down. Boots, belt, and even inside my jacket collar. No room for slip-ups.

“All clear,” one of them yelled after a thorough search.

Satisfied, they motioned me forward and led me toward what used to be The Cove, once a high-class restaurant with grand windows overlooking the water.

Now it stood empty, its windows long shattered, the wooden patio rotting and creaking beneath our steps.

I remembered coming here years ago, dressed in stiff suits for a family dinner.

Now, it was a ghost of what it once was—a hollow shell, cold and lifeless.

They pushed me inside. The interior was even worse. The tables were gone, leaving only scratched-up floors and walls smeared with graffiti. The air was damp, stale, and filled with memories of better days. I scanned the room, searching, hoping.

And then I saw her.

Claire.

She was held by two men, her arms pinned to her sides, but she was still fighting, struggling against them. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and terrified.

“Elia!” Claire’s voice cracked.

I took a step toward her, only for one of the guards to stop me, shoving me back with a hard hand. “Claire…” My voice was raw, heavy. “Claire, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer as she tried to free herself. Every muscle in my body screamed to reach her, to rip her away from these men. But the guards boxed me in—an immovable wall.

“Claire! Say something!”

“I’m fine,” she finally answered. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll figure something out. Just go! Get out of here!”

Not a chance!

From the shadows, Lucien sauntered forward. He moved like he owned the place, a smug grin forming on his lips. I needed to be smart, but my heart hammered wildly, pushing me toward the impossible.

“Well, well, Elia Lucas. Welcome to my soirée.” His voice was slick with a mocking tone that dug into my skin. “I’m impressed you actually showed up. Truly. Not many would be this brave—or this reckless. But I get it. You’re in love. A man will do anything for the woman he loves.”

“Lucien!” I shouted, my voice raw with rage. “If you lay a finger on her, I swear, tonight will be your last.”

He threw his head back, laughing like I’d just told him the world’s best joke. “Oh, El. Always the tough guy. You still don’t get it, do you? You’re not calling the shots here.” His eyes gleamed in the dim light, a sadistic joy behind them.

“Come on now, fight me like a man. Didn’t you say it would be just you and me?” I stood taller, anger and adrenaline warring inside me.

“I’m not as gullible as the both of you.” Lucien’s gaze flicked from me to Claire, then back again. “You really don’t know when you’re beaten, do you?” He sighed almost theatrically, as if this was some great inconvenience. “But let’s get on with the show, shall we?”

An icy chill swept through me as I looked around—and it wasn’t the wind.

The once grand stage, where bands used to play during swanky riverside dinners, had been transformed.

Harsh makeshift lights now shone down on it, turning it into some kind of macabre arena—the space I’d have to fight in. No escape. No way out.

But it wasn’t just the stage that left me second-guessing how the night was going to end. It was what came next.

From the back of the room, heavy footsteps echoed, and a shadow emerged.

The moment he stepped into the light, my breath stalled.

He was massive, even larger than I thought possible.

His sheer presence seemed to suck the oxygen from the room.

His calculating eyes locked onto mine, and in that instant, a terrifying realization hit me—there was no way I could fight him.

I’d seen men like him before on TV—all show, all staged.

But standing here, breathing the same air, it didn’t matter if he was acting.

He could break bones and toss grown men like ragdolls. And tonight, I was his target.

Doubt crept in, threatening to crack my resolve. I’m dead.

“What’s the matter, Lucas?” Lucien’s voice slithered through the air. “Cat got your tongue? Not the fearless man your great-grandfather was, huh? You know the story as well as I do.”

“This isn’t the old days, Voss! We’re in the twenty-first century.

” My voice rang out with conviction, but the bitter irony wasn’t lost on me.

I’d thought about it a thousand times—settling those old scores in the ring and avenging Tessa’s death since the system had failed us.

But it was the Vosses I wanted, not their hired muscle.

And the price on the line should’ve been my life, not Claire’s.

“And yet, nothing’s really changed, has it, El? Sure, the stakes are different. Your great-grandfather fought for his land. But you? You’ll fight for her .” He presented Claire like she was some kind of prize he was offering up. “The game’s still the same, though. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Let her go, and we’ll settle this. Just the two of us.”

I looked at Claire, her wide, terrified eyes locking with mine, and something inside me shifted. She was scared, maybe more scared than I was. I couldn’t let her down. Lucien couldn’t win.

“Meet your opponent—Saxum,” Lucien said, motioning to the man stepping forward. “On loan all the way from a club in the East Coast, just for me tonight. Let’s just say I paid a premium. So don’t embarrass me. I expect a show worthy of the investment.”

“I’m not interested in your whore, Voss. I’m fighting you !” I shouted, pointing my finger hard at him, countering the heavy beats behind my ribcage. “Come on, show me what you’ve got! Or are you just a coward, hiding behind—what’s his name again? That useless sack of a heffalump!”

Lucien chuckled darkly. “I don’t get my hands dirty. You know that.”

The man-sack moved to one corner, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He rolled his shoulders and threw a few quick jabs at the air, loosening up. Maybe I should, too, but what difference would it make?

Facing the inevitable, I braced myself for whatever was coming. Freestyle, MMA, Muay Thai—it didn’t matter. Most likely, there would be no rules. I yanked off my jacket, then pulled my shirt over my head. Oddly, it felt colder inside than out. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready for the fight.

My opponent roved over me, taking me in from head to toe, sizing me up from a distance.

“You sure know how to flex for the ladies,” he sneered, his gaze sliding over to Claire. “She’s a knockout, that one.” He blew a mocking kiss in her direction.

“Hey!” I shouted, stepping forward. “I’m right here!” There was no way I’d let him look at her like that.

His attention jerked back to me. “The real question is, can you back it up in here, in this ring?”

His wicked grin stretched wider as he approached, and for a second, a small part of me still hoped this was all just an act. Maybe he was playing it up for some imaginary crowd, thinking there were cameras rolling.

But I knew. This guy was the real deal, a walking wall of destruction. Claire’s life, everything she meant to me, was on the line.

I’d face this beast head-on. If I had to be broken tonight, fine. But I’d make sure I was still standing when it ended.

“I’d hate to tear apart that shiny muscle suit.” His gaze lingered on my abs. “Or that pretty face of yours. Just picture the bruises, the lacerations, maybe even a jaw that’s going the wrong way.”

I felt his stare—battle-ready, bloodthirsty. I matched his energy, taunting, “What was your name again?” Pretty sure it was Scrotum.

“The name’s Saxum! Latin for ‘rock,’” he boomed, like he expected a round of applause. “There’s still time to walk away, farm boy. Quit while you’re still in one piece.”

Lucien, fed up with the dragged-out prelude, barked, “Get on with it already!”

No backing down now. My opponent was fired up and raring to go.

The eldest Voss then delivered his final order. “Fight till the end. The loser’s fate will be in the hands of the victor. Make your ancestor proud, Lucas!”