I tried to focus as the first two fighters stepped into the ring. The bell rang sharp and I flinched at the first jab. The audience roared, Amber and May with them.
I shouldn’t be here.If Papa found out this was what my abuelita had given me permission to do... I didn’t want to think about it.
“And the winner is Killer Knock-Out!” the ref shouted.
The night blurred into a cycle of violence. Three more matches passed, each more brutal than the last. The man they called “Killer Knock-Out” lived up to his name, tearing through his opponents with a terrifying, calculated skill. Who he was, I didn’t know. I’d never seen him at the gym before.
I watched him retreat to his corner, and my stomach dropped when I saw Darragh leaning over the ropes, whispering to the coach.
He looked oddly pleased with the coach’s nod and response.
The “Killer” stood up, taking a swig of water before his eyes scanned the crowd.
Then they landed on me, locking tight, and he flashed the most predatory smile that made my blood run cold.
“AND NOW, THE MAN YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR, FOR THE MOST ANTICIPATED FIGHT OF THE NIGHT. GIVE IT UP FORTHE REAPER!”
The gym exploded. The sound was deafening, a mix of worship and hunger. I frowned.The Reaper?
“New stage name?” Amber shouted over the noise.
Then I saw him. Tristian. Even in the shadows ringside, I knew those broad, powerful shoulders. He walked toward the ring in a hooded black sweatshirt and white boxing gloves, the contrast stark. When he ascended the stage and pulled back the hood, my heart stopped. His face wasn’t the face of the man who held me; it was a mask of cold, dead stone. He handed his hoodie to James, his expression utterly void of emotion.
Unlike the others, he didn’t strip down. He stayed in a long-sleeved black shirt, hiding his ink, hiding the parts of him I knew.
The bell rang. Usually, Tristian was fluid, a predator in motion. But tonight, he stayed rigid. He didn’t move to study the “Killer.” He just put his hands up in a defensive stance and waited. My heart hammered against my ribs as the opponent lunged, throwing a hook and a cross. Tristian blocked them, but he didn’t counter. He just stood there, taking the impact.Why?
A jab landed, snapping Tristian’s head back. I saw him wince, a small, human crack in the mask. Instead of exploding back, he lowered his guard. He let the man hit him again. And again. Three times, the sound of leather hitting skin echoed like gunshots.
The crowd was turning, cheers morphing into confused murmurs.
I leaned forward, my breath hitching in my throat. Tristian wasn’t fighting; he was enduring. I looked toward the corner and saw James andKane vibrating with fury, their faces red. Then I looked at Darragh. He was leaning back, a look of pure, satisfied malice on his face.
Have you ever seen Tristian lose a fight?
We’ll see about that…
The realization hit me instantly. Tristian was losing on purpose.
“Not really living up to your new name, are you, Reaper?” The Killer taunted, circling Tristian like a shark. “You’ve lost your fire...”
I stood, my palms slick with sweat, my heart screaming. I looked at Darragh, and he met my gaze with eyes like daggers—a silent, lethal warning to stay down.
The Killer followed Darragh’s gaze to me and scoffed.
“Got a new dollbaby that’s making you change… No wonder you’ve gone soft.Gotta be nice to her little pussy, huh...”
The shift was instantaneous. Tristian’s spine straightened. The temperature around the ring seemed to drop. Kane and James went deathly still. The room began to quiet as The Killer, sensing he’d finally found a nerve, leaned in closer.
“Yeah, bet she’s fucking tight, huh? With that little body on her,” he mocked. “Well... just like you got your own little bitch,Darragh made you into his.”
The Killer swung for another throw, but the man he was fighting wasn’t there anymore. Tristian blocked the blow with a crack that sounded like breaking bone, following it instantly with a devastating body shot and a lightning-fast uppercut.
The Killer staggered backwards, stung. He let out a humorless, shaky chuckle. “Struck a nerve, huh?”
The crowd began to boo the Killer, the tide of the room turning. But he just laughed, looking around as if he’d already won. Behind him, Darragh was no longer smiling. He looked livid.
The Killer looked back at me, his voice carrying in the silence. “When you lose, hope you don’t mind letting me use her for a quick fuck—”
