Scarred (Lost Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

his life.
    It was night the first time I took a beating at the hands of faceless men and felt my soul ripped out of my chest after coming to Wandsworth Prison. The Governor hadn’t given a shit about my leaking face and body because, of all things, he lost money on the fight with Kataya.
    I could still feel the excitement in the air and smell beer and stale cigarettes. The gritty mat beneath my feet felt like home. The fight would have been a good bit of money in both of our pockets. Then I felt the impact of his first punch to my chest, the whoosh of air leaving my body before I gasped and countered. If I closed my eyes, I could relive every second of that fight, pause it, rewind, and play it again.
    Was there any other way I could have gripped his leg? Any way a simple shift of my weight would have stopped the break? I didn’t know the answer, and I never would. But sometimes, when I wished my life had gone differently, I tried to.
    Most days though, it was a simple fact that I had taken his life.
    Even worse, it was in those midnight hours, after I’d done so, I gained protection through the use of my hands, and took the first life that hadn’t been an accident. And yet, here I was, sweating and trembling as the clock read two in large red letters, soothed by the darkness. I knew what happened in those hours. I understood how dark it could get, and I trusted that.
    I was a torn, fucked up ball of death and decay, and I loved it. Because with it, I survived. Becoming a monster had been the one thing I could rely on during my sentence.
    Nine years that seemed like an eternity. Involuntary Manslaughter.
    Those words didn’t mean fuck all. It didn’t explain how I hadn’t wanted to kill my friend in that ring. It didn’t explain how the break happened in the first round of the fight, and it was because of me the ambulance got there as fast as it did.
    None of it mattered. All that sentence said was I was of good character and hadn’t intended to cause a death. But since it was in the commission of an illegal offense, I deserved a higher sentence.
    I didn't come out of that cell with such a clean character.
    And in nine years I’d come to love the night and the god-awful things I could do in it. The eight-point stars on my chest taught me to crave the darkness and revel in it. Now? Now, I just had to deal with the nightmares, the moments in time when I saw the eyes of those I hurt.
    When I heard their voices screaming into the abyss,  then silenced.
    It never got easier, but I lived through it. I was here and I would continue to be.
    Tonight though, there was something else in the air. A disturbance in my simple little world that pulled me out of bed in a borrowed house. Pantera Gym was my dream, the one thing I carved out for myself. A remembrance of who I once was and a way to keep money flowing. A sanctuary that was now tainted. I walked to my office, where I could see everything in the gym.
    River. She made it all worse.
    She was an obsession. That was the only reason I could think to explain why I took her in, paid for her medical bills, and made her one of my fighters. On most days, I was a heartless bastard, she even received the bitter end of that, but it didn’t stop me from holding on to her.
    Maybe it was like a dieter buying chocolate cake they knew they could never eat. Just having the sticky, sweet shit near them made them feel better. It helped them remember who they were before the weight changed them. Reminded them of what they were trying to get back to.
    River was my chocolate cake.
    As I watched her run on the treadmill from the one way mirror in my office, I couldn’t help but admire her determination. I had the mirror built soon after bringing her into my home behind the gym so I could keep an eye out for her while she worked out. Pavel had taken a shine to her, teaching her Krav Maga. The mixed martial style suited her small frame. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t take a punch; it didn’t mean