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“I saw that,” he said under his breath.
I stifled a laugh. Sometimes, very rarely, I managed to get past my fear of Remo. In those moments, I almost understood why Nino thought so highly of his brother.
Two men in fight shorts entered the cage. My brows furrowed. “I thought Nino’s fight was next?”
“The biggest fight is always last,” Fabiano explained. “There are two fights before Nino’s. Whoever wins might end up fighting me or perhaps Savio next.”
“Why do you do this? Why do you keep fighting? It’s not like people don’t fear you enough.”
“If you get comfortable, you get weak. That happens to many people in positions of power. It’s good to prove to people and to yourself that you are still someone to fear,” Remo said, his dark eyes passionate and fierce.
The referee gave the signal. At once, the two men barreled toward each other and collided with grunts. I winced as I watched their kicks and punches. Cheryl returned with our beers, and I took a deep gulp despite my aversion to the taste. One of the men flew against the cage and blood spurted out of his mouth.
I covered my own with my hand. “Oh God.”
Remo cocked an eyebrow. “This is nothing.”
“Maybe for you,” I muttered.
“You’ll get used to the sight.” He nodded toward Leona. “She did.”
“I still don’t enjoy it,” Leona said. “Especially if Fabiano’s in the cage. It’s horrible seeing him getting hurt.” She shuddered.
“I’m not getting hurt,” Fabiano said firmly. “I always win.”
Savio returned and sank down beside Remo. “Because you’ve never fought against me.”
“I’ve fought against you, and I kicked your ass,” Fabiano muttered.
“That was more than a year ago.”
The crowd burst into applause, and my eyes darted toward the cage where one man lay unmoving on the floor while the other stood above him with raised hands.
My heart beat in my throat when the referee finally announced Nino’s fight. His opponent, a man the size of a giant, was already waiting in the cage when Nino stepped out of the changing room.
The crowd regarded Nino with respect and fear as he walked through the aisle they’d made for him. His eyes were directed straight ahead at the cage with an expression of cold determination, yet something was different about him. For once the emotionless mask seemed almost forced, as if he had to make it appear that way. Or maybe my own nerves had me imagining things.
Nino climbed into the cage under the roaring applause of the crowd. In his fight shorts and with his gruesome tattoos, he was an intimidating sight. The moment Nino had entered the room, Remo, Savio, and Fabiano had changed their behavior. There expressions showed no hint of doubt or worry, only pride and the grim knowledge that Nino would win.
I knew Nino was a good fighter, but his opponent was several inches taller and much wider than Nino. My husband didn’t seem impressed by the man in front of him, and the moment the ref got out of the cage and closed the door, he switched into predator mode. His entire body became taut, his eyes cautious as they regarded their opponent.
The man was the first to attack. I tensed when he barreled toward Nino, who jumped to the side and landed a hard kick in the man’s side. Remo cheered loudly, and Savio and Fabiano applauded, but I could not move.
Nino seemed off. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. His opponent got him good in the first few minutes of the fight. Nino was thrown against the cage and landed on the floor hard. I jerked violently, clamping my hand over my mouth to stop a scream as tears formed in my eyes. Remo tensed, leaning forward as if he was on the verge of jumping up.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying not to cry. Remo looked, scanning my expression and eyes. “Don’t lose it. This is public.”
I blinked. “What if he loses?” I whispered. “What if he dies?”
Remo narrowed his eyes in anger, but there was something else there. Worry. “Nino won’t lose, and he definitely won’t fucking die. Understood?”
I gave a nod, and to my relief, Nino was already back on his feet. For a moment, he didn’t move, only regarded the man who was taunting him. Then his eyes moved toward me for a second, and my body exploded with emotions.
He turned back to his opponent and as if a switch was turned, Nino dropped the analytic calm. I had never seen that look on his face. He lunged at the other man and attacked viciously. He looked unhinged, hungry for blood and death, and he kicked and punched his opponent over and over again, not stopping even as the man dropped to the ground.
It was a deeply unsettling sight.
“What’s gotten into him?” Savio muttered.
