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Carter’s presence was magnetic, and I felt even Greyson tense behind me as his three opponents closed in on him, moving in tandem. Carter fought without ever giving up.
But the numbers were against him. For every opponent he knocked away, another was there to take his place before Carter could follow up.
A cut opened above his eye, blood streaming down his face, painting him scarlet.
And then he was on the ground, the final blow knocking the breath from him as surely as it stole the air from my lungs. The crowd erupted, but all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.
“He almost had them,” Greyson said, in a tone I couldn’t quite read.
Carter didn’t stay down long. With a grimace of pain, he pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly but held his swagger as he left the ring, defiance clear in every step as he headed straight toward us.
“You lose some—” Greyson began, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
But neither Carter nor I heard the rest of what he said. Carter pulled me into a kiss that tasted of iron and salt. I kissed him back fiercely, pouring my worry and admiration into the embrace, wanting him to feel everything I couldn’t say out loud.
“Enough,” Greyson finally grunted, releasing me from his lap to stand. With a reluctant nod, he motioned for Carter and Jack to flank us.
I thought the guys might refuse to stand at the sides of his throne, but they didn’t hesitate. And it seemed to me that for someone who didn’t know about the history between these guys and the tension, it would seem like we were a united front.
“Sebastian’s up,” Greyson said, his tone satisfied.
The taste of Carter’s blood still lingered on my lips, a coppery reminder of the violence that had just unfolded, when the announcer’s voice boomed through the underground arena once more.
“And now, our final contender of the evening—Sebastian! Is he worthy to join our ranks and become a Jackal?”
My gaze locked onto Sebastian as he stepped forward, his stride confident, undeterred by the prospect of what was to come. By now, he’d seen what had happened to Carter and Jack. He knew what he was facing.
The crowd’s roar built into a crescendo of anticipation as his eyes found mine across the chaos. Mischief flashed across his face, an insolent grin stretching across his features.
My heart stuttered at the sight. I believed what Jack had said earlier, when he could tell I was wracked with guilt. Sebastian knew the pain waiting for him between those ropes, but he didn’t care. To him, proving himself—to me—was worth paying in blood.
“I don’t have all night,” Sebastian called out, rolling his shoulders back and turning away from me to face his fate.
As if on cue, three new mafia brutes emerged from the crowd.
Greyson pulled me back onto his lap. I could feel Jack and Carter’s presence, warm and comforting to either side, and I could tell from the way they stood that they were just as tense as I was.
Greyson’s lingering touch was forgotten as my entire being focused on Sebastian.
As Sebastian took hit after hit, I felt each one as if it were my own body absorbing the impact.
“Would it matter if he gave up?” I asked Greyson, my voice bitter. “Is there any stopping the fight?”
“He wouldn’t,” Jack said, his tone gentle, grounding. “He’d never give up. That's how much you mean to us.”
I expected Greyson to say something again about how they’d kept us apart for five years, how they half abandoned me. But he glanced at me and then just dropped his head to kiss my bare shoulder, his touch sending a wash of warmth through me.
Maybe instead of focusing on what Greyson and I had lost, I should remember what they had given up too.
As Sebastian parried and weaved, I could feel the tension radiating from Greyson, from Jack, from Carter—all of them bound by the same relentless determination that now fueled Sebastian’s resolve.
He fought with a ferocity that left the crowd in awe even as he took one punishing blow after another. Yet, despite his valiance, it was clear the tide was turning, the numbers against him too great. And though my heart ached with every strike that sent him reeling, it swelled with pride.
I might not be ready to entirely forgive Sebastian. But I knew I would, eventually. Watching him fight, for me, I knew Sebastian and I would never be over.
The metallic taste of fear lingered on my tongue as Sebastian’s fist connected with the jaw of his second opponent, sending him sprawling to the mat. His victory was short-lived—another man punched him from behind, a blow that echoed through the arena. The crowd let out a collective breath then fell silent.
It was a hit that would have felled anyone else, but Sebastian just staggered, shook his head, and turned back into the fight.
