I look towards the ring the moment the next fighters step forward.
The first man is enormous.
His shoulders are broad, he’s tall and all muscle, built like a wall, really.
Then the second man steps into the ring, and the entire crowd loses its mind.
My heart stops.
Literally.
Hunter.
He walks into the ring with a level of confidence so different from the version of him I’m used to seeing that for a second, I barely recognise him.
Gone are the tailored suits, the immaculate hair, the expensive watches he seems to change every day to match whatever colour he wears.
Now there’s no trace of the man I’m used to.
He wears nothing but black boxing shorts.
His frame is massive, every muscle clearly defined, a faint layer of sweat visible on his skin, likely from warming up before the fight.
He’s always been broad, but standing in that ring somehow makes him look even bigger.
His shoulders roll slightly as he squares himself, his focus entirely on his opponent.
He looks so different.
Dangerous.
He’s still in control, but not in the way I’m used to.
It feels as if I’m seeing a side of him I was never supposed to witness.
The referee signals.
The bell rings.
And the first punch lands.
I nearly gasp but stop it at the last second.
I forget all about my drink on the table as my hands clench tightly in my lap and my entire body tenses while I watch.
I can’t believe this.
I mean, I know Hunter is dangerous.
He’s part of the elite, but same as us, his family has ties to the mafia, especially the Bratva.
And while I’m not personally tied to that world beyond having friends connected to it, I have a feeling Hunter’s involvement runs deeper than he lets people believe.
What I do know for certain is that, officially, he’s meant to take over the Wardgrave legacy.
Wardgrave Dynamics.
They are private defence contractors who work with the government, though everyone knows they do business with the Bratva and other syndicates too.
