She scoffed. “If it were that easy, I’d have gotten her myself. You have no clue what you’ve done, what you’ve cost me.”
“Hey, Drago saved your life. You were down for the count, sugar.”
“I was just taking a breather.” He was right, of course. Deadman was three times her size, and they never should have been matched. It only meant one thing—they wanted her to die in the ring. All her training and sacrifices to get Ava back had been for nothing. Her father never planned on returning her daughter. No matter how hard she tried to please her parents, it would never be enough.
“Sure,” he said. “Come on, you need to see the doctor.”
Belle glanced out the windows. Darkness shrouded the lonely back alley. A hooker leaned against a lamppost at the corner, and a stray dog rooted in a torn garbage bag beside a metal dumpster. They were in another slum, so he must have taken her to one of the underground doctors who worked off the books. It was the lifestyle she was accustomed to.
She couldn’t take a deep breath, and she could scarcely see out of her good eye. In all the years she’d been fighting, she’d never been hurt this bad. She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked, scared, or embarrassed. All she knew was she’d get through this. If nothing else, Belle was a survivor.
“I don’t need a doctor.” Belle didn’t care about herself, never really had. This was about Ava now, ensuring she had a better life, one far away from the fighting circuit.
“Drago’s orders. The faster we deal with this shit, the faster I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Drago doesn’t call the shots,” she said. “Not for me. All he’s done is fuck me over.” She wiggled her way out of the car with as much dignity as possible. Her wrists were still wrapped, her knuckles crusted with blood.
“The fight was a death sentence. If you haven’t figured that out yet, then you’re in the right profession.” He winked.
Belle wanted to punch him in the mouth, and if she wasn’t so critically injured, she’d be able to take him. As it was, every cell in her body cried out for mercy, and she hated this new vulnerability. She gritted her teeth as she put weight on her feet and attempted to stand up straight. No way would she show this asshole her weaknesses.
The distant streetlight reflected her image off a broken glass window. It took her a minute to realize it was her looking back. Her body was bloody and bruised, her eyes and face swollen to the point she was almost unrecognizable.
What would have happened if Drago hadn’t shown up?
At first all she’d thought about was Ava and winning the match. But it was a losing battle. Stopping the fight had saved her life, given her another chance to get her daughter back. She started to worry about Drago. Deadman and Ben were ruthless. Then she thought better—Drago had a reputation for a reason. And she was thankful he’d thrown some mercy her way because he’d always been a cold-hearted bastard.
Belle wasn’t so naïve though. Trust was for fools, so Drago had to expect something in return. Too bad for him she was no whore. No matter how attracted she may be to the older man, she’d never sell her body.
Carlos opened a metal door for her a couple buildings down, so she cautiously stepped inside. Her body wobbled for a moment until she got her bearings. When Carlos reached out a hand to help her, she refused it, bracing against the wall instead.
“It’s okay to accept help,” said Carlos.
She kept walking down the dimly lit hallway. A florescent light flickered above. When her own family was out to destroy her, it didn’t leave much room to trust others. Belle didn’t need anyone but herself and her daughter. She’d had plans before they took her baby, plans she still dreamed about every night.
The doctor’s exam room was on par with what she’d become accustomed to over the years, and far from sterile. The only time she’d seen the white walls inside a real hospital was when Ava was born. Injuries in the ring had to be dealt with in shitholes like this. The organizers didn’t want any heat that threatened their operations.
“What do you have for me today?” The doctor hadn’t looked her in the eye, busy clearing the junk off the examining table.
“She’s hurt pretty bad. Drago said he’s taking personal responsibility for her, so anything she needs, make it happen.”
The doctor glanced at Carlos and nodded. “Haven’t seen him in a long while.”
“He’s retired. Well, he was before tonight,” said Carlos.
She used the stepstool and sat on the table when directed. “Where’s it hurt?” asked the doctor, shining a light over her face.