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I let him believe the little lie.
I moved around the circle, letting him hit me twice before I hit him back once. It went on like that.
My knees buckled when he got my leg, and I went down. He came forward, thinking he got me.
Stupid.
Rearing back, I pushed away from his oncoming assault and got back to my legs. He lost his balance. Before he could go down, I lifted my leg and my knee made contact with his fragile ribs.
There was a harsh crack.
The crowed roared.
I snarled, hitting him again and again.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
He howled, but I didn’t let go.
I didn’t fucking let go until he went limp in my arms.
My breathing was ragged as I watched his useless body fall on the dirty ground.
The shouting from the audience became deafening. I rolled him over with my foot until he was on his back. His eyes were opened, staring into the dark sky. His face was bloodied, and my gaze traveled to his chest where all my attention had been during our fight.
It was a bloody fucking mess.
And I smiled.
His ribs had broken through the sensitive skin, and two of the bones stuck out almost mockingly. Blood paved the ground, turning it darker.
I wasn’t done yet.
I panted, the need to maim not yet subdued. My gaze found Zor, silently asking him to start my next round.
He seemed to understand the look on my face because he nodded and shouted something. I couldn’t hear what he said, the crowd now growing louder and louder.
My head started to ache and my muscles were locked tight, awaiting my next victim.
The crowd parted once again, and I saw him.
I remembered Zad’s words. He has never…lost.
I now understood what he meant. The black man standing in front of me was huge, easily weighing a hundred pounds of muscles more than me. I was tall and lean. He was tall, wide and bulked with tensed muscles. Definitely steroids. And drugs. He looked high as fuck. But the type of drugs that made him wilder, stronger, and more savage in his attacks.
You see, this place had no rules. Not like the legal fighting.
This pit only had only one rule.
Death or, if you want, tap-out before you die.
The sad reality—not a lot of fighters got to tap out.
I watched my opponent crack his neck, left and right before he cocked his head to side, regarding me with a disinterested look on his face.
He seemed to assess me like I did to him.
I saw something in his eyes, a darkness that reflected mine.
There was no time for the firing round. We didn’t wait.
No, one minute we were standing very still, facing each other across the circle.
And the next second, we both lunged for each other.
I ignored the roar of the audience.
I ignored everything except him.
My gaze found his hands. Spiked brass knuckles. Deadly.
I looked for any weakness from him. His neck. His heart. His ribs. His knees. Those were his vulnerable points.
He was vicious as he came at me. I didn’t have time to duck or protect myself. His fist found my stomach, and I snarled as agony coursed through my body.
He was relentless in his assault. This man was a trained fighter.
I was not.
I only fought to release my anger.
The spike of his brass knuckles sliced through the skin of my arms. The blade left a fiery pain behind. Fuck. I felt the blood running down my arms, and for the briefest moment, I felt something in my chest. Something tight and worrisome.
Fear.
This man…he could kill me. Right here. Right now. Tonight.
There was a possibility I wouldn’t make it out alive…a possibility I wouldn’t see Valerie again.
NO.
Enraged at the thought, I roared. The man suddenly charged at me, taking us both down. I saw him lift his fist up, the one with the deadly weapon. He smirked, and I saw my death. The crowd went savage, closing in on us. It was insanity. The air bled fury and danger.
Knowing he was bigger and stronger than me, I wouldn’t be able to move. He had me pinned down. His eyes flashed darker, murderous. I couldn’t die.
Struggling under his body, I was able to push my arm up. His neck. He left his neck vulnerable for me.
Without thinking, I jabbed two fingers into the side of his neck, hard enough to have him cough out a ragged breath. His muscles tightened and he flinched for the briefest second. My head up came up and I slammed my forehead into his nose. A crack.
He growled, slamming his fist down. But he was blinded in pain, and I turned my head to the side, feeling his fist coming down on the ground only an inch away from my face.
Rolling my hips, I knocked him onto his back. He fell over, and I stood up, not giving him a chance. I saw nothing but red as I slammed my feet down on his knee, hearing another crack. I felt nothing but immense rage as he kicked me back with his other leg. Stumbling away, I watched as he stood up on a shaky leg.
