Page 2 of Yours on the Canvas

The guy in jeans doesn’t stop there.

He drops an elbow onto the man’s skull, then follows with a barrage of hammering fists. Blood pours from the guy’s nose, mouth, and ears. One eye swells shut while the other disappears beneath the blood running down his face.

But the guy isn’t slowing down, and it’s as if the crowd smells death in the air as they surge closer, feeding off each hit. Their shouts grow louder, the air thick now with bloodlust.

I glance quickly at Frank, but there is no interest on his face; he doesn’t even blink. He’s seen all of this before. It’s what he pays his fighters for.

I’ve seen beatings like this before, but someone always stepped in.

“Is no one going to stop this?” I look at Frank, then back at the fighters.

Frank huffs, unfazed.

“Bouncers didn’t turn up, and I ain’t fucking going in there. What, you wanna stop it?”

I stare at him, jaw tightening. “I mean… I can if you want me to.”

Frank watches the man in jeans continue beating the unconscious fighter. He lets out a huff of frustration. “Yeah, ya better. Don’t need another one dead tonight.”

I should be shocked at his words, but I’m not, so I pull in a breath and push through the crowd.

I reach the guy handing out the beating before he knows I’m there. My arm hooks around his throat, and I drag him backwards into my chest, my legs locking around his waist.

I squeeze.

I can feel under my grip his breath catch, and then his hands start clawing at my forearm, fingers digging into my skin, but I hold on, feeling the blood bead on my arms. I can feel his strength start to disappear beneath me until he’s nothing but dead weight against me.

I shove him away and get to my feet.

As I stand there, I look at the two bodies lying in the dirt. One unconscious. The other bleeding badly, blood spreading beneath him.

Two men step forward, grabbing both fighters, and drag them out through the crowd.

* * *

I’m already bouncing on the balls of my feet in the middle of the ring, watching as my opponent steps through the ropes. He’s got close to a foot on me, broader through the shoulders and built like he could snap me in half.

Excellent.

The whistle cuts through the noise, and we move.

I close the distance before he can settle. His right hook comes exactly where I expect it. Wild and predictable.

I slip underneath it, drive my shoulder into his ribs, and dump him onto his back.

This won’t take long.

“You gave yourself away too early, fucker,” I mutter over the roar of the crowd.

As the crowd fades into the background, I drive elbow after elbow into his ribs, cutting off every chance he has to escape. All I hear is my breathing, the dull thud of bone meeting bone, and the air leaving his lungs every time another elbow lands.

His arms shoot up to protect his face.

Good.

I keep working his body instead, and then he gives me an opening. I pivot around him, trap one of his arms, and take his back in one smooth movement, pulling him against my chest. My forearm slides beneath his chin. I lock the choke exactly the way I did with the guy in the jeans.

Then I squeeze.