Now is my chance, and I can’t fucking lose it.
Victor’s flailing around, shouting, but it’s not helping him escape. The blood in my veins pulsates through me like a drug as I lower us to the ground, both thrilling and exhausting. Fuck, when will the ref call this?
My eyes flicker to the gate. Odie and Shawn are cheering me on, grins wider than ever. I glance at the crowd, and they’re all on their feet, yelling and cheering like fiends for the game. If they thought anything about how I looked, they don’t care enough now to say anything.
But then my eyes land on a specific blonde-haired hothead.
No, I must be seeing things. Rip is not in the crowd in the arena. How could he be?
This is me being delusional again. The figure is wearing a black hoodie that hides most of his face, so it’s tough to say for sure, but his build is similar, and those are absolutely his ocean-blue eyes. What. The. Fuck.
Just like that, he disappears, and I’m falling to the floor, a searing pain shooting through my balls. Victor catches me off guard with a backward kick to the dick, causing me enough pain to set him free. My legs clamp together, and I drop to my knees right before his punch lands square in my neck.
I hit the hard floor, clutching my neck, gasping for air, and coughing like crazy. He’s on top of me in an instant, unleashing a constant barrage of attacks to my gut, chest, and head. I register the shift in the audience from hype to shock, back to hype.
I protect my face as best I can, but Victor’s a strong man, so it doesn’t do much. The hamburger in my stomach threatens tolurch out of me, but I swallow it down, because the last thing I need is vomit to accompany the blood everywhere.
I’m lying there, with not a clue of how to get out of the situation. But then I picture Victor’s ugly face. The way he looked down on me when he recognized me, how he thought I wasn’t anything close to what people perceived me as.
How he and the Crown believe I’m a weak bastard who couldn’t even stand up for his dead fiancée.
Those people don’t know shit about me—they like to talk because that’s all they can do. They will never be who I am, and knowing that pisses them off. So, they gossip and judge, and make idiotic theories.
But that’s all it is. Theories. They don’t know the truth because they don’t deserve to.
Desperate, I sweep my leg under Victor to knock him off balance. He stumbles enough for me to get on my feet and create a little distance, but he’s ready to gouge my eyes out right when I do. Victor lunges at me, his fingers digging into my shoulder blades, and I hold him steady.
I pull him close to me, chest to chest, and lower myself between his shoulder and neck. My heart pounds in my ears as I bite down hard on his trapezius muscle like a wild animal, then rip upward in a rage.
Blood spews from the gap between his neck and shoulder, and he lets out a guttural roar. I spit out blood and bits of skin onto the mat and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Victor’s either in too much shock or pain to throw any more punches. He crumbles to the ground, face contorted as he shouts. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I don’t respond, and Victor taps out and calls for medical help in a frantic yell. I’ll cut him some slack. He’s never had someone rip the flesh off him before.
The referee runs between us, his eyes a type of giddy I’ve never seen before. He raises my hand. “Give it up for Kingsley!”
The thunderous applause from the crowd, as much as I adore their excitement, makes the room tilt. Or maybe that’s the usual lightheadedness that follows me around these days.
The next thing I know, I’m taking a seat on the mat. It’s either that or fainting in front of the crowd, so I choose the former.
My sister and Shawn appear by my side in no time. They wrap their arms around me, helping me out of the arena and probably to one of the few medics upstairs in the base.
“That was insane,” Shawn says as we wobble through the crowd of onlookers. “Did you see the look on Victor’s face? I think he pissed himself.”
“I for sure saw a wet spot at his crotch,” Odie giggles. “That was disgusting, King.”
I crack a smile at their conflicting astonishment and disgust, but I can’t even fully enjoy it. I’m still thinking about the face that I should never have spotted in the crowd.
“Guys,” I croak. “I think I saw something.”
My sister’s smile falls. “What?”
“I think I saw Rip in the crowd.”
“Now? Here?” Shawn asks pointedly.
“The social media marketer?” Odette asks at the same time.
