I focus on trading blows, the crowd’s cheers ringing out distantly in the background. They aren’t important.
Only winning is.
The guy and I keep trading blows. I take a knee to my gut, but I counter with a punch to his face. Back and forth, back and forth. A sour taste rises on my tongue, but I ignore it in favor of moving, in favor offighting.
When my opponent stops to gather his breath, I rush forward. He tries to meet me halfway, but I extend my leg to trip him. He cries out and falls to the ground.
I kick him in the side, and he yelps again.
When he tries to get up, I punch him in the head to force him back down.
“Looks like the fan favorite is down!” the MC announces.
The audience boos loudly. I raise my arm to throw another punch, but somebody grabs it.
“Let go,” I growl, looking over my shoulder.
It’s Fenrir.
“Chill. You won,” Fenrir says with a wide grin. “Not that Ricky doesn’t deserve a few extra punches, but if you’re going again tonight, you need to pace yourself.”
Pace myself.
I couldn’t care less about pacing myself.
All I care about is the allure of violence, the grunts and the yells and everything else that comes along with a good fight.
“Yeah,” I say anyway, shaking Fenrir off as Ricky gets up.
I eye him, half-expecting him to throw another punch at me, but he keeps his hands to himself.
The next challenger steps up.
This one, I demolish, taking him out faster than Fenrir had taken out his target. But he gets a good hit to my gut, and I shake my head instead of taking on a third fight even though my mind screams in protest at the idea of passing up on the opportunity to have more of this.
Adrenaline still courses through me, and I’m aware that when it wears off, the blows I’d taken are going to hurt like a bitch.
Might as well be smart about it.
I find Fenrir, quirking a brow at him. “That good enough to be able to get back in?”
“Definitely.” He gives me a dark grin. “I knew I was right about you. You really should have joined Hell instead of those fuckers at Chaos.”
I probably should have.
Pandora’s done more than I have in the search for Rachel’s killer, and it feels like joining Kappa Alpha was fucking stupid in retrospect. What have I really gained from it? I’d have fit in better with Fenrir and the others on the boxing team.
But I made my choices, and the only way out is through.
I shrug. “They’re not so bad, when they’re not on fire or pissing themselves.”
“So, that’s never, right?” Fenrir laughs and drapes an arm around me. “Fuck, I wish I’d been at that party. Tate the piss-drinker.”
“That was the only exciting part,” I tell him, letting him guide me farther away from the fighting.
It’s tempting to change my mind, to go back and pummel someone else, but my phone pings with a new text.
I pull it out, seeing Pandora’s name, then promptly shove it back into my pocket.
