If I would finally flee from the demons he fought daily and the ones he let take control of his soul.
I wouldn’t. Holding him like this made it worth it. It made everything—all the good, the bad and the depraved—worth it.
“There’s comfort in darkness,” I said, softly, so as not to disturb the aftermath of our first love-making. But Arthur tensed, and his hand tightened in mine. With my free hand I ran lazy circles on the back of his palm. “People are afraid of the dark.” I knew he was listening to every word I said by the way he held his breath. “But there’s solace to be found in darkness too.” I smiled as I saw the midnight sky through the skylight in the old ceiling. The stars and the moon hung just outside, illuminating us where we lay.
“Like that,” I said, pointing at the sky. “We wouldn’t see the stars without the dark. The moon.” I turned my head to Arthur, to the scars on his torso—knife marks from his hard upbringing, from his many violent fights. Some, from the look of things, that had been close to being fatal. I kissed his biggest scar, then looked up at his watching gaze. “I’m not afraid of the dark, Arthur. I never have been.”
He stared at me for so long I didn’t think he would give me a response. Then, “Good,” was all he said as I closed my eyes and felt him wrap around me, darkness and all.
“Come on, princess. Wake up.”
I blinked my eyes open. The room was still dark. But in the slither of light from the lamp on the bedside table, I saw Arthur. He was dressed and waiting for me. I realised he mustn’t have slept at all when I saw on the clock that only two hours had passed. “Get dressed.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes as I kicked my legs off the side of the bed. Arthur’s nostrils flared at the sight of my naked body stretching, but he tossed some underwear, black leggings and his hoodie at me. I quickly dressed, smelling his scent on the hoodie as I pulled it over my head. I laughed when I looked down; the hem fell to my knees. Then my heart thudded erratically when I saw an amused smirk on Arthur’s mouth.
He so rarely showed signs of joy that any mere hint of it was breathtaking.
I slipped my feet into my trainers and took Arthur’s waiting hand. He pulled me from the room and straight out of the house. He unlocked a Range Rover, and I stood in shock—there wasn’t a driver in the driver’s seat.
“You’re driving?”
“Shock horror,” he replied dryly. My chest warmed at the hint of good-humoured sarcasm in his response.
I got in the passenger side, fighting my smile as Arthur pulled out onto the East End streets. I stared out at the houses and the closed pubs. It seemed like a different world to where I was from. Same city, completely different lives. But this one was fast becoming my new home.
We arrived at the warehouse that held the underground fight club. I tensed, realising we were going down there again. But when Arthur led me to the steel doors and they opened, it was only us. I frowned, looking at the empty pits, the empty stalls and seats. It had been cleaned, fresh sand in the pit floors. All traces of blood gone, a heady stillness to the air in the underground room. As if nature knew it was a place of depravity, death and violence.
“Why are we here, Arthur?” I asked, squeezing his hand.
He led me to a back room. It was long and narrow, and at the end were some haybale targets. Arthur threw off his jacket; on the side of his chest was a gun in a holder. He came toward me and pulled out the gun. “You have to learn to shoot,” he said, and my stomach sank. I looked at the gun in his hand and recoiled. I’d never held a gun in my life.
“Princess,” he said, voice laced with reproach. “I have a fucking massive target on my head.” Arthur seemed to lower his walls a fraction. “If you’re with me, if you stand by my fucking side, then there’s going to be a target on you too.” He pounded his chest with his palm, voice hardening and rising in volume. “People want to kill me. Many