Chapter Eight.

Alex's POV -

"What took you so long?" Papa asks me, a slight hint of annoyance in his tone. I resist the urge to snap back at him and simply roll my eyes instead. Around him, I roll my eyes a lot.

"Nothing, here." I grumble in response, handing him his coffee and fruit. He takes it from me without as much as a thank you and I sigh, slamming the car door shut. My eyes drift over to the door of the little coffee shop and I can feel the corners of my lips twitch up into a smile. I didn't think I'd ever see her again. She looks even more beautiful than the first time I laid eyes on her.

I close my eyes and leaned back in the seat, reminding myself of who I am.

Forget about her Alex. . . You know it can't happen.

I know I should listen to that little voice inside of my head but instead, I choose to ignore it.

*****

"Concentrate Alex!" Caleb yells at me, slapping me lightly on the side of my head with the boxing pads. I let out a grunt in response, taking a few steps back. I'm inside the boxing ring, sweat dripping down my back. The boxing gloves are fastened tightly around my wrist and Caleb is bouncing around the ring, training me as he usually does.

Today is different. Today, I can't concentrate.

"Let's try this again!" Caleb shakes his head before striding towards me, holding out his right pad. I swing back and let out a frustrated yell, my hand colliding with it.

"Good! Again!" Caleb encourages me, swinging the pads, left to right. I follow his movements, landing a clear, strong punch every time. I can feel the adrenaline running through my blood, cursing through my veins. The top of my arms ache with the strain but I like pain, pain feels good.

My fists continue to lash out, arms becoming a blur as I let my mind go blank. No thoughts, no feelings, no emotions.

"Woah, woah! Alex!" Caleb yells as he's knocked off his feet, one of my punches knocking him backwards. I hear him land with a thud and immediately take a step back, blinking. I feel disorientated, spaced out. Caleb is lying on the floor, the boxing pads next to him. He's clutching his arm and his face is twisted with pain. I spit out my mouth guard and rip off my gloves, tossing them to the floor.

"Shit," I mumble, dropping down to his side. He's hissing in pain, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Caleb, talk to me man."

I lift up his sleeve, exposing his bare arm. The skin around his shoulder is red, the dark shadow of a bruise forming around the entire area. I can't help but wince myself knowing it must hurt like hell.

"You fucking asshole! I think you've broken my shoulder, God rest my soul." Caleb cries out, lying on his back whilst clutching his shoulder. I can't help but chuckle at him, using my forearm to wipe off the sweat dripping from my forehead. Caleb scowls at me, his eyes shooting daggers through mine.

"Does it look like I'm laughing? This isn't a joke Alex." Caleb shot back, sitting up and shoving my shoulder hard. I barely flinch from his force and instead stand up on my feet, holding out my hand.

"I'm sorry man, I went too far."

Caleb mutters under his breath for a few minutes before reaching up and taking my hand. I pull him up in one swift move and he stumbles a little, still clutching his shoulder.

"I would hate to be on the receiving end of your temper." He mutters, shoving my shoulder so he can walk past me. I chuckle quietly at him, shooting him another apologetic look as he limps out of the boxing ring.

"If you do that to me again, I'm going to break your neck and I'll enjoy every second of it!" He yells over his shoulder, his voice bouncing off the walls. I can't help but chuckle louder this time, grinning as my best friend continues to yell empty threats at me.

*****

My face remains emotionless as I bend down, eyes burning with an intimidating hatred. I place one hand on either side of his chair, the muscles in them tensing up. He remains silent but I see the fear flash across his eyes. Just for a second.

"Do you know why you're here?" I say quietly, my words low and icy. His lips turn up into a hateful sneer and I know his confidence is all a show. I'm about to break him, physically and mentally.

"No, whatever you think I did, I didn't do it."

I raise my eyebrows before letting out a quiet chuckle, motioning for Juan to bring me the envelope behind me. He silently does as I ask and I trace the opening of the smooth paper, taking my time. From the corner of my eye, I can see Trey beginning to grow nervous. His hands that are strapped to the chair are curled up into tight fists and there's a bead of sweat running along his forehead and upper lip.

"You know, I always wondered why you hated me so much, Trey."

"I don't hate you."

His response is immediate, desperation in his voice. I shake my head slowly, clenching my teeth as I begin to feel the anger rising within me.

"Do not fucking lie to me!" I growl, the anger radiating from my body. He physically winces and closes his eyes for a brief second. I take the chance to slowly slide out the single photo inside the envelope. Even though I've seen it multiple times, it still angered me to look at it.

"Tell me who's in this photo." I hiss, turning it to face it to him. His right leg is beginning to bounce up and down and he's turned his head away from me, refusing to look.

"I said look at the photo."

My words are laced with danger, cold as ice.

"Fuck you," Trey spits back confidently, keeping his head permanently turned away. I suck in a deep breath and pull back my free fist, swinging it whilst aiming for his temple. The second it touches his skin, I hear the crack. Trey's sounds of pain fills the room and I watch him, bored.

I've done this a million times before.

"Now you can either listen to me or I'll crack your skull open, its your choice."

Trey slowly turns his head, his teeth are clenched so tightly, I'm sure they'll break through his jaw at any moment. I know he's dying to hit me, it's a shame he'll actually be dead before he gets the chance to.

"Lets try this again, who's in this photo?" I hiss, dropping it into his lap. He doesn't even look at it and already, he knows the answer.

"Me," he reveals, his voice wavering. I nod, rolling my shoulders back.

"Good, who else?" I ask, growing impatient. My hands are twitching to lash out, strike him multiple times. I want to hear him scream in pain, beg for me to stop.

"Porter." Trey replies, his voice barely above a whisper. I hold my hand up to my ear, my eyes burning with a freshly lit flame.

"What was that, Trey? I can't hear you, speak up!"

"Porter!" Trey yells back, his legs bouncing at a ridiculous speed. He struggles against the restraints and my lips twitch upwards into a smirk from his fear.

"Why are you handing him money in the picture, Trey?" I ask dumbly, already knowing the answer.

"So he'll kill you."

He gives me what I want straight away and I chuckle, walking back and forth in front of him. My steps are slow, my stride and posture confident.

"It obviously didn't work because I'm still here. Unless I'm the fucking devil coming back to haunt your ass." I hiss, leaning down so I'm inches away from his face. I immediately see regret flash through his eyes.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Trey asks, his question rhetorical. He already knows the answer. I chuckle quietly, tilting my head slightly as I stare into his eyes that are slowly filling with fear.

"Not without a fair fight. It's no fun if you're strapped to a chair, Trey."

His eyes widen and I can see his confidence returning as he thinks he has a chance against me. I resist the urge to chuckle again, he actually thinks he has a chance. Cute.

"I was stabbed by Porter and left to die a few weeks ago. No thanks to you." I say sarcastically, a sadistic smile on my face.

"So I'm not fully healed yet. You have the upper hand here Trey. Let's see what you're made of."

I remove the restrains off his wrists and take a step back, waiting for him to stand up. He glances around the room quickly for something to use as a weapon but it's useless, the room is bare. Unless he breaks off a leg from the chair, he has no weapon.

"Fight me with your fists, if you want to kill me, do it properly." I challenge him, my own ready to go.

"I fucking despise you," Trey hisses before lunging towards me. He's well over 6ft and built like bricks but that doesn't stop me. Before he even has a chance to get near me, I swing back my arm and strike multiple times, aiming for his head. He stumbles on his feet but it doesn't knock him to the floor and once again, he's charging at me. His left eyebrow is split and bleeding down his face and I smirk, knowing I'm about to cause him more pain than he can imagine.

I grip him by the shoulders and force him down, bringing up my leg to smash it into his face. Immediately his screams fill the room. I can hear the crunch of his bones breaking and he falls to the floor, gripping his face tightly. I let out a heavy sigh and lean back against the wall, studying my fists.

"You've let me down Trey. I was looking forward to a good old fashioned fight." I say disappointedly, watching as he squirms on the floor. He removes his hands and shoots a deathly glare at me, his lips turned upwards into a hateful sneer.

"I'll get you Alex, you son of a bitch."

The door swings open and smashes against the wall, causing the room to shake. I don't even have to turn to know who it is, Papa.

"What did you just say?"

My lips twitch upwards into a grin and my eyes fill with a humorous twinkle. Papa takes a few steps in, his eyes trained on Trey who is slowly standing to his feet now.

"Did you seriously just call my son's dead mother, a bitch?"

Papa pulls out a gun from his back pocket, his fingers easily sliding onto the trigger. He aims it at Trey who's backing up into the wall, holding his hands in surrender.

"You're not even worth the fight." Papa says in a bored, monotone voice before he pulls the trigger. The sounds of the gunshot fills the room, bouncing off the walls. I watch as Trey's eyes widen, his body slowly slumping down the wall as the spread of blood in his chest stains his clothes. He lands on his knees before falling forward and face planting the floor, lying completely still.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish." I mutter, storming out of the room. I slam the door as I go, the weight on my shoulders lightening ever so slightly. The anger inside me is still fresh, my adrenaline soaring through the roof. I grab my car keys off the side and pull open the front door, heading straight for my sports car.

I need a release and I need it fast.