Sick Fux epub vk download

[POV: REMI]

"Move, Remi. Or I’ll make sure you never walk on two feet again."

Jaxson’s voice didn’t just reach my ears; it vibrated through my very marrow. It was a low, jagged rasp that cut through the thunderous roar of twenty thousand fans screaming his name.

The air in the tunnel was thick, a suffocating cocktail of stale popcorn, expensive cologne, and the sharp, metallic tang of his sweat. I felt my lungs seize, the oxygen refusing to enter my chest. My heart didn’t just beat; it slammed against my ribs like a frantic bird trying to break its own wings against a cage.

I looked down at my hands. They were trembling so violently that the silk of my dress hissed against my skin. The fabric was a deep, mocking gold—the color of his victory, the color of my cage. My palms were slick, a cold moisture pooling in the center that made the world feel slippery and unstable.

"I can't," I whispered, but the sound was swallowed by the crowd's chant.

Jaxson! Jaxson! Jaxson!

He didn’t answer with words. He reached out, his massive hand, still encased in his heavy, salt-stained hockey glove, wrapping around my waist. The leather was abrasive, biting into the soft curve of my hip. It wasn't a caress. It was a brand.

He hauled me forward, dragging my small frame into the blinding glare of the arena lights. The transition from the shadows of the tunnel to the brilliance of the ice was a physical blow. The light felt like needles against my retinas.

The temperature dropped instantly. The rink ice breathed a crystalline frost into the air that hit my face like a slap. My skin erupted in a thousand tiny shivers, the fine hairs on my arms standing on end. Beneath my feet, the red carpet they’d laid out felt thin and treacherous.

"Smile," Jaxson hissed, his mouth barely moving as he waved his free hand toward the rafters. "You’re the lucky charm, remember? Give them what they paid for."

I felt the bile rise in the back of my throat, a bitter, acidic heat that burned. My ears began to ring, a high-pitched drone that tuned out the world until all I could hear was the ragged rhythm of my own breathing.

I looked at him—the MVP, the god of the ice, my step-brother. He looked magnificent in his jersey, his face streaked with the grime of the game, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, predatory hunger.

"You're hurting me," I managed to choke out.

His grip tightened. I felt the bruise forming in real-time, a dull, throbbing heat radiating from where his fingers dug into my side. He didn't care. He turned me toward the cameras, the flashes of a hundred lenses exploding like miniature stars in my vision.

The world was a blur of blue and white, the smell of the cold ice mixing with the sudden, overwhelming scent of him—dark chocolate, bitter and rich, and the copper tang of blood from a cut on his lip. It was an intoxicating, sickening scent that made my head spin.

"Keep your mouth shut and your head up," he commanded, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my teeth. "You are a prop, Remi. Nothing more."

[POV: JAXSON]

"Is that the best you can do, little bird?"

I looked down at Remi, and for a second, the adrenaline from the win—the bone-crushing hits, the final goal, the weight of the championship—was eclipsed by the sheer, unadulterated sight of her breaking.

She looked like a porcelain doll someone had tried to glue back together. Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown out until the honey-gold of her irises was nothing but a thin, shaking rim. I could feel her heart hammering against my palm through the silk of her dress. It was fast, erratic, a rhythm of pure, delicious terror.

My blood was a wildfire in my veins. The stadium was screaming my name, but the only sound that mattered was the hitch in her breath every time I moved my thumb against her ribs.

I hated how much I wanted to crush her. I hated how the scent of her—lilies and fear—cleared the fog of the game better than any hit ever could.

"Look at the camera," I growled, pulling her closer until her shoulder was crushed against my chest.

She was so cold. Her skin felt like marble, chilled by the ice we were standing on. I wanted to burn her. I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat just to see if the heat of my rage could finally make her melt.

"Jaxson, please," she whimpered.

The sound of my name on her lips was a physical strike. It made the muscles in my jaw lock so tight I thought my teeth might shatter.

The Commissioner stepped forward, holding the mahogany box. Inside, the Championship Ring caught the light, a gaudy, diamond-encrusted weight of gold. It was everything I had worked for. It was the proof that I was the best.

But as he handed it to me, I didn't feel the pride I expected. I only felt the frantic pulse of the girl under my hand.

I took the ring, but I didn't put it on. Instead, I turned Remi toward me. I saw the way her throat worked as she swallowed, the delicate line of her neck exposed and trembling.

"Tell them," I whispered, leaning down so my lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Tell them how lucky I am."

I felt her shudder. A deep, convulsive tremor that started in her knees and traveled all the way up to her shoulders. She looked up at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw something other than fear in those wide, golden eyes.

I saw defiance.

"You're not lucky, Jaxson," she said, her voice suddenly steady, cutting through the roar of the crowd like a razor. "You're just a bully with a shiny toy."

The words hit me like a puck to the sternum. The air left my lungs in a sharp hiss. I felt the shift in the atmosphere, the way the cameras seemed to zoom in, sensing the crack in the script.

My vision went red at the edges. My fingers moved before I could think, my hand sliding from her waist to the nape of her neck. I bunched the gold silk in my fist, forcing her head back so she had to look at me.

"Careful," I breathed, the word a promise of violence. "I could break you right here and they’d still cheer."

"Then do it," she challenged, her voice a whisper that roared in my skull. "Stop pretending you need me for luck and just admit you're obsessed with me."