BOUND TO HIM BY FORCE

29. HOW COULD WE RESIST

The words spoken echoed in my head all through the days that passed. It seemed the only time I could actually think, Azrail was all that filled my mind.

I woke up earlier than all the men, showered, wore my clothes and rushed to the training grounds. The days soon morphed into one. I could not keep count. All I knew was to train and train until I thought my soul was parting from my body.

I had thought that I had seen the worst, but the more I pushed, the more Max pulled out more excruciating exercises. My body was blue-black. My toes black with blood pools under my skin. I could barely put on my clothes, could barely even swallow, but each time the clock hit four I would be on the training grounds and I would give my two hundred.

“It’s either you die or you don’t, until the moment you drop dead, you keep moving as if you are indestructible,” Max had said. The tremor of my hands from the pain was something I took as normal.

It got worse with the days, not sleeping, just rolling around the bed in pain, thinking I would die, but each day passed, bringing another to wake up and fight.

Spitting a word from my mouth became something difficult to do. What would I be saying? The morgue was not a place to talk but to fight, to bend every part of your body and mind until not even death could stop you. All I did was nod my head and do what I was told. The people around disappeared, not noticing any of the men in the morgue. My mind was on two things; training and Azrail.

I closed my eyes sometimes when the pain got too intense, clenching my teeth and bringing the image of him before my closed eyes. I analyzed each part of his body in my head; his well-crafted jawline, his dark soulless eyes that haunted me whenever I caught some sleep. His scent was branded in my head, his coat barely holding on to it. The more I thought about him, the more attractive he was shaped. His beauty had never been the problem. He was the most handsome man I had seen, but the problem was that, his beauty was so much you just knew to stay away. It was deep and dark. It was dangerous in a way that made you knock some sense into your head no matter how much you’d wish to be in his arms.

He was the only person I could keep in my head. My parents were a critically sore matter to visit. Kane was a no go, letting go of him would be best for both of us. Dwelling on my old life would not help, so I was painfully moving on.

My new life was dark, brutal and dangerous. The only thing I could hope for, being the idea of the husband I did not know. In my mind I could see myself shape him into something he was not with each passing day. When nothing but darkness surrounds you, you find hope in places you would have not in your right sense of mind.

The days turned to weeks and weeks to months filled with fights and killing. The weekends were the worst. The whole two days were spent watching or fighting in the fighting pit. Killing was a norm in my new home and it was something I was taking as normal. The fights were of different men killing each other, but I found myself fighting more than any of the men. My number of opponents increased from two to four, then six. The more brutal I became, the happier everyone was.

And soon, my goals twisted. I did not know how they turned from survival to being the most skilled and brutal in that morgue. I fought with little to no conscious because, day by day, I was convinced that everything was disposable, including people.

Samuel was also someone I noticed to be fighting a lot in the pits. He was always facing over ten men at once and every time he came out the victor. I prayed each day to not be put in a fight with him. It was beside the point that I somehow had a connection with him. We had never talked after visiting his cell, but somehow, I felt connected to him in a way. It was besides that. The man was a beast. His weight did not say it, his face did not give it away, but when he stepped into that fighting pit, he turned into a beast. His killings were the most horrifying I had seen in the morgue and all the men were afraid of him. He was an alpha in the morgue and I wanted him for myself. He and five others got the most training than any of the men.

Watching them train or fight was magical.

They were ruthless, they were ripped of all sense of compassion with nothing off bounds to them. That was where they were driving me to and I longed to reach that point. I longed to stop seeing the blood on my hands, I longed to stop replaying all the fights that left so many children fatherless, that left so many wives and lovers whipping, surely never going to know what happened.

My hands carried nothing but sin. I took so many lives I did not even want to fight the transition they were forcing on me. I let them turn me to a person I could not recognize.

“Your head is always held high, even when you are scared, smile and act as if you have the world at your feet.” Max told me one time after kicking me to a pulp. My lower lip was trembling, the tears crowning my eyes and he had told me to smile. He had wrapped his hands around my neck and told me to smile, told me to hold my head high no matter how much in panic I was in.

No matter what I felt outside, I always walked high as if owning the world.

My body rolled off the bed with a groan.

Training was intense along with the fights, but my body was healing. It took some time, but it was adapting, welding to match the strength and endurance the new me carried. My hands tried holding up a fight but they were cracked, rough and strong. My feet were no different. I marveled at my face to keep resisting the face rearrangement from all the punches it had taken.

Each week I thought they would finally tell me I was done and I could go home, but after two months I gave up. I lost all hope and just told myself I would spend the year in the morgue. There wasn’t even anything to get back to. There was no one waiting for me, even if there was, letting them see me in the state I was in would break me on it's own.

My feet carried me to the animal shed where I took my cold shower.

I had more products to my name. I had my face and body products, finally smelling like a person and not the animal I had turned to.

When my periods came, I had literally run up the stairs to Max and Brian’s office to ask for supplies. They had told me to make a list of all things I would need, complaining that girls were too irritating. I got some of the things with others withheld by Max and Brian but it was better than nothing. I got some underwear with a couple of bras which I did not dare hang where the guys would see because they would not stop staring at them and my underwear.

Some of the men had been there for years with no contact whatsoever with the outside world besides letters from home which they could not reply. Sometimes I could see the lust on their eyes, see the wheels turning and I could not help but give them a daring stare. I dared anyone to try cross me and I would let havoc over them and no one would stop me. I would let out all the brutal thoughts I had, all the things I wished to do as a way of acting out. I wanted to do them to myself for the person I had turned to, I wanted to punish myself but since I could not, a model would be much appreciated.

It was hard being in the morgue but they had all sighed up after everything being explained to them on how they would live from thereafter. Nothing but poverty got them there. They had families to look after and the moment they signed their names on the contracts to join the cartel, they made so much money that would take care of their families and the next generations to come. Even if a man was killed, their family would continue earning, depending on how long they had been with the cartel.

I shook my thoughts away, my face cloth wiping my face after a deep face scrubbing. I then washed my body with the body scrub. When the shower was done, I dried my body with my large body towel then took up my toiletry basket, my flops on my feet, walking away. Getting to my cell, I oiled my skin, pulling on my underwear. My clothes smelled of summer as I picked them up. I was also allowed to have some washing powder which smelled so good. My pants were pulled on, pulling the rope and tying it. My socks were next then boots. After the boots, I wore my t-shirt.

Taking clothes from those that lost their lives became a thing and surprisingly, the men took the clothes, rinsed and dried them only to bring those that could fit me. I was shocked really but I never declined a gift thus my cell had a long pile of clothes. One man had even gone so far to kill all the rats in our building block so they would not chew on my things. They were sucking up; most having realized that I would not die and would be their boss. I did not encourage it but appreciated the sentiments given to me.

The men had begun waking, walking out with darkness surrounding the place. I was not afraid of the dark. I was not afraid of anything, not even death. The only thing that scared me was a threat on Kane and his family. I did not know how I could not let them be my weakness. I knew their lives would forever be in danger because of me.

Azrail could use them to hurt me. He could kill them for the littlest thing I do.

There was no way to stop caring, there was no way to forget them. All I could do was keep them out of my life and hope everyone forgets of the connection we had but I had a feeling Azrail would never forget, he was too perfect to be the forgetting type.

Max was already in the field when I got there. He was eating as always, extending half of his sandwich to me.

There were no words exchanged. For as long as I did what he wanted, he stayed off my case. And in a way, I liked him. It was crazy but after months with him, I realized he was taking care of me in a way. He was strict and harsh but he did not have to bring me food every night. He made sure to personally deliver it when all the other men walked to get their own. Maybe it was his fists knocking out the sense of me but I looked up to him as a brother.

With the sandwich done, we did some laps then he watched me do some exercises. I threw some punches, did lunges, press ups and kicks before he joined. I continued with the exercises, him my personal trainer from hell, telling me to do more, go harder. He was never satisfied. He believed that whatever I did, I could always do better. Even when I had improved, he believed I could improve from that improvement which had me never getting used to his training.

A few hours had gone by, the sun out and having no mercy on us, we then fought. During the week he was always my fighting buddy, preparing me for the weekend fights. I learned so many skills. My gun skills were sharpened to perfection, learning archery and more about the weapons. He would sometimes give me lessons on the cartel, how things operated.

My home seemed not so bad, the training keeping me overly occupied.

We fought so hard and fast. It was more than exciting to block nearly all his attacks and slip my own. He stumbled; an eyebrow c****d. At first, he had been holding back but with the weeks passing, he let everything he had out, besting him day by day. He never got angry though, he just hid that smile, seeing it shine through his eyes.

He jumped back in the fight, both of us falling, boots on each other’s face, trying to keep the other down. It would be a funny sight to see.

Both our bodies went still as a loud siren went blurring all through the establishment. My head tipped back, looking around to see what was happening and everyone was frozen. I frowned and just in that stance they all went running around. My eyes went wide, wanting to ask what was happening but my words stuck in my throat from my throat, my mouth too lazy to spill the words out.

Max immediately let go with me relaxing my hold on him, sitting with him already up.

He held out his hand to me, not able to hold his excitement with the grin spreading all over his face. I took his hand, getting up to dust myself with chaos breaking all around us.

My frown went even deeper, perplexed with the smirk as everyone seemed in panic. I found myself just staring at Max, asking with my eyes for him to explain.

“What?” I finally asked, my voice foreign even to me.

“We are under attack.”

His words seemed to stop my heart, but then my mind kicked in that I was afraid of nothing, my body relaxing. What perplexed me was his smirk that grew wider with each split second.

“Let’s go kill some people, Princess. They have delivered themselves to us. How could we resist?”

The words spilled out of his mouth, the excitement on his face leaving me cold.