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Chapter twenty-seven
My father didn’t break.
Instead, he beefed up his security and avoided me like the plague. Mom wouldn’t even answer my calls.
Parents of the fucking year.
I’d been looking for answers for months. I went back to The Grove. Back to The Chamber. Showed up at Pierce Carmichael’s office—unannounced—and got dragged out by security at gunpoint. I even apologized to the piece of shit cop-for-hire I’d beat up at Lyric’s penthouse that day to try to get him to talk. No one had any answers.
Fortunately, tonight was fight night, and I was readier than I’d ever been. The demons inside me were begging to be set free.
My first jab connected with his kidney. The second one hit him solid in the middle of the jaw. Adrenaline rushed through my bloodstream. This was kill or be killed. We were two people trained to fight. Each of us laser-focused on making sure the other one didn’t walk out of here without our mark on their flesh. Another jab, this one to the temple. And then he fell.
I was on top of him, hooking my arm around his throat.
The lights went dim. The roar of the crowd lulled to a hush. All I heard was thethwump, thwump, thwumpingof my pulse in my ears. All I wanted to do was squeeze. Harder. Tighter.
Thwump, thwump, thwump.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture Lyric’s face, to focus on her sweet voice telling me it was over, that I’d won, that my demons could rest now.
But something kept beating my thigh, interrupting my thoughts. Shouting in the background got louder and louder. Closer and closer.
“He’s tapping!” Someone’s hands were on my shoulders, pulling me off of my opponent. “He’s fucking tapping, Lincoln! Jesus Christ.”
My eyes popped open, the bright light blinding me. Sweat soaked my hair and dripped from my brow, burning my eyes. I took a deep breath and bolted away from the guy beneath me. His eyes had glassed over and his lips were turning blue.
Shit.
I’d lost it. One twist of my shoulder and I would have cranked his neck.
I never lost it like that in a fight.
I was aggressive, sure. But never dangerous.
I sat there with my back against the cage, not wanting to stand up and claim victory, not like this.
Deuce squatted in front of me and looked me in the eye. “You okay? What the fuck was that?”
I forced myself to breathe in and breathe out. My stare was steadily trained on the guy still lying on the mat in front of me. His gaze was following the trainer’s fingertips, and the color had returned to his face.
Deuce stood up, reaching out his hand to pull me up. “Hey.” His eyes softened. “Take a break.”
I raked my fingers through my hair as I scanned the silent crowd. Then I held out my hand and pulled my opponent off the ground and into a hug. “I’m so fucking sorry about that.”
He patted me on the back. “All good, man. I’ll get you next time.” I heard the smile in his voice.
I pulled away from him and grinned. “Yeah…” I shook my head. “Probably not.” Then I shot him a wink and walked out of the cage.
The showerhead rained over me, letting the hot water soothe my aching body. I scrubbed a hand over my face, smearing the skull paint and watching as trails of black-stained water ran down my body and swirled at my feet before disappearing down the drain.
I could’ve killed him.
Iwould havekilled him.
A hit sounded really good right now. I had to get the fuck out of my own head for a bit.
I stood there, numb, for a few minutes more before soaping up and washing the rest of the paint off my face. The cool air prickled my skin when I stepped out of the shower into the steam-filled room.
