Claim (Fury Brothers #5)

I wanted to tip my head back and cry, “Why me?”

But I stuffed those emotions all the way down and dragged in a deep breath. Playing the victim never helped.

I’d be no one’s victim.

Especially not Carr’s.

I pushed open the door to Hard Burn and stepped inside.

The sounds of fighting were louder, along with the throb of music. There were lots of boxing rings, each one defined by red ropes, although not many with people in them. I guessed it was too early in the day. There were a few people at the back of the gym, lifting weights. I saw one big guy in a sweat-stained tank holding onto two long ropes, lifting his arms up and down.

I figured that once people finished work, Hard Burn would be full.

As I stepped farther inside, smells hit me—sweat, deodorant, and the sweet undertone of a cleaning product. I fiddled with my hair. I was currently back to my natural black again. I sighed. But not for long. I dyed my hair every month, but this month, I’d just wanted some little piece of the old me.

For a second, I thought of the only night where for a few glorious hours, I’d felt happy, safe, and normal.

Those hours in a cheap motel on the Louisiana border.

I shivered.

I’d relived every single moment of the hours I’d spent with Beau so many times, often with my fingers between my legs. I dragged in a breath. I couldn’t afford to daydream. Today, I had to focus on the future me. The one who could fight and defend herself.

Beauden Fury was the best, and I needed him.

“You lost, girly?”

I turned to see an older man—probably in his late fifties or early sixties—staring at me. He had a bald head, and what I guessed was some Latino heritage. His dark brown eyes regarded me steadily.

“I’m here to see Beauden Fury.”

The man’s dark brows rose. “He know you’re coming?”

I tried not to fidget. “No.”

The man sniffed. “You’re too young, girly. He’s not a fan of the boxing groupies.”

What?It took me a few seconds to realize what he meant. Beauden Fury must have women coming looking for him a lot.

“No. I want to learn to fight.”

The man cocked his head. “Well, then. My name’s Gio.”

“I’m Bellamy.” Or at least I was now.

“All right, Bellamy, I can share our class timetables with you—”

I shook my head. “I need to learn to fight. I need Beauden Fury to teach me.”

Now, the man’s brow creased. “He don’t give many private lessons, and only with experienced fighters.”

Desperation and despair welled inside me. If I couldn’t fight, Carr would kill me.

Gio must’ve seen some emotion on my face. His expression warmed a little with sympathy. “Look, why don’t we talk over some options—”

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have come.”

I had no idea what to do next.