Page 117 of Embriagado

“He’s my fucking ex, alright?” I shouted before he ripped my scalp off.

It felt like the world had stopped for a few seconds right before he released me, and my head dropped forward.

Feeling as if my scalp were on fire, I moved my hand up and ruffled my hair.

Fucking psycho.

“Clench your jaw,” he said, and I looked up to see him pulling something from his pocket.

My eyes widened.

“Ariyan—”

“I said, clench your jaw.”

With a sigh, I did as he said, clenching my jaw while also pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, prepared to be hit by his knuckle-duster.

Fisting my hair again, he held my head up as I watched him prepare for the punch. Then it came, at full blast, and the cold silver collided with my cheek, the impact making me fall to the side. But that was it, one punch, and he was done. Still, this one single hit was enough to make me spit blood, and I swore under my breath. Why did I let him do this to me, and more importantly, why did I enjoy it?

With my eyes focusing on my blood that stained the wet tiles, I heard him stepping away. But not wanting it to be over so soon⁠—

“Just admit that you love it.” I spat out blood. “Admit that you love how alike we really are. It’s why you love torturing me, isn’t it? Because the truth is, you just hate yourself.” I had no idea why I said those words, especially as this was the first time I’d thought them. But suddenly, it made so much sense.

I looked up to see him staring at me, so much disdain in his cruel eyes. What was it that he hated in me this much, our past? Or the fact that I reflected the parts in him he despised?

In three long steps, he closed the distance between us, then crouched before me. I hissed when he grabbed my jaw, as it was still sore, yet I didn’t pull away when he kept me close.

“You think you and I are the same, huh?” He tilted his head, golden eyes studying me like a predator. “We’re nothing alike.” There was no space for error in his words, no empathy, just ice. “You see, you love violence. You live for it, while I am violence.”

My breath caught, and I stared at him as he let go of my jaw, only to clean the blood from the corner of my mouth.

“It’s why you can’t resist me, El Embriagado. I’m made out of the poison you love getting drunk on. Every time you take a sip—” He tucked a lock of wet hair behind my ear. “—all you want is to have another one. But once you reach the bottom of the barrel, that’s when you’ll understand that all this time, you were drinking sewage.” He huffed. “And in that moment, when all you’re left with is the stench, that’s when you’ll regret it all.”

I’d always hated people deciding shit for me, and now was no different.

“I’ll regret nothing,” I said, pushing his hand away from my face.

His eyes darkened as a smile took over his haunted expression, an expression I’d only seen once on his face before.

“We’ll see.” He rose while I stayed on the floor. “Now, then, before I leave, I’d like us to speak about your share. Since I’m being generous, how about five percent for every win?”

My brows furrowed, and I quickly rose to my feet, not giving a damn that I stood completely naked in front of him.

“Five percent is generous?” I gawked.

“Be grateful I’m offering you anything at all, considering it’s my money at stake.”

“Yeah, and my fighting skills, asshole.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what? You’ll wash it with soap?” I tsked. “I don’t give a damn. Ten percent, or I’m out.”

His eyes dropped between us.

“You’re hard.”

“I am.”