Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,94

rushes toward the two and pulls Phoenix off the dude.

“Nix! Stop!” he yells, literally dragging Phoenix away.

“Get the fuck off me!” Phoenix screams. “I’m gonna kill him!”

The man is groaning, his noises getting quieter with every passing second.

It all happened in a flash. One minute some guy is assaulting me, and the next, Phoenix is chopping his fingers off like cutting grass. He’s fast as lightning, striking with equal ferocity.

And he did it all for me.

***

PHOENIX

Age 20

“Hit him harder!” my trainer yells to me as I punch my opponent. “Harder, Phoenix!”

When he calls out that name, it makes me frown, wondering who the hell he’s talking to. But then I remember … that’s me now. Phoenix is my name. I just haven’t gotten used to people calling me that way yet.

My trainer told me that I would get a new identity. A new name. The moment I joined, Miles would be dead. Gone from this earth. I would be reborn as a killer, and a killer needed an appropriate name.

Phoenix, I’d decided. Like the hero from my past.

I would be own my hero now.

Momentarily distracted, my opponent smacks me in the face, causing me to drop down on my back.

“Phoenix, get your ass back up!” my trainer yells. “Stop letting yourself get distracted. Focus!”

I nod, jumping back up on my feet again, ready for the next attack.

I’ve been training for the past few months. Nonstop, ever since I met him. My trainer is harsh and so is the organization. Everyone is ruthless here, just like me. After training here for so much time, I finally realize why he chose me that day on the streets. It wasn’t because I was strong or fast, even though I am. It was because of my attitude. My relentless pursuit of justice. My justice. I would achieve anything in whatever way necessary … and all of the people here would do the same.

We are killers.

They’re born and bred to fight, to escape the law, to hunt for their prey. They murder the guilty but don’t always spare the innocent. They fight for two things—money and power. And now that I’ve seen them in action, I realize that there are a lot of people who would do anything to attain either of those two. The only thing being is that they hire us to do their dirty work for them.

So essentially, they’re not the ones with money and power; we are.

I dropkick my opponent to the other side of the mat, making him touch the ground.

My trainer blows his whistle and shouts, “Well done, Phoenix.”

I get up off the floor, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and shake my opponent’s hand. He’s a lot tougher than I am, and yet I still managed to beat him. He grins and winks at me, “Good match, Nix.”

“Thanks, DeLuca.”

It’s the first time I managed to beat his ass. He’s a lot bigger and stronger than the others are, but I guess that’s why my trainer wanted me to fight him. He’s been handing me tasks he doesn’t want anyone else to do, like point-blank shooting a guy in the face, even though I knew nothing about his background.

It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care. And the more I fight and kill, the less I feel.

My emotions have been waning ever since I lost her, the girl I believed was mine. Now all I dream about is making her and her new family pay.

I will show them all what real power is. The one you can’t buy. It’s unattainable without losing a piece of your soul, and I’ll gladly barter with the devil.

I can do anything I set my mind to, whether it’s training, fighting, or killing. Day in and day out, I set a goal, and I don’t look back. The past is behind me; this is who I am now. Phoenix; the guy who doesn’t give a damn.

My trainer just wants to see how far I’ll go to win.

How far I’ll go for justice.

Just like that one day, when he stopped to talk to me from his car after I fought my own damn friends. He saw something in me that day. Something I didn’t even know I had inside me, until now.

Let’s just say I’ll do pretty much anything to get my way.

Including murdering anyone who comes into sight. No questions asked.

***

Present

Abruptly, I’m pulled in and out of memories of my past, and how I murdered people with my own bare hands. Cutting this man’s