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As we approached the line of dilapidated-looking warehouses, I saw a guy in a red hoodie leaning against one of the buildings. When he saw our car approaching, he straightened up and then signaled with his hand for us to turn left. Jenna nodded at him then went in the direction he pointed. Sure enough, we rounded the corner and there were rows of cars parked. We got out of the car and made our way out onto the road where the hoodie guy was still lurking. Without saying a word, he pointed down the street to another warehouse, and we both nodded and began to walk. The longer we walked, the louder it got. People finally came into view. They were being pushed inside the warehouse as fast as they could get through, burly bouncer-type guys keeping a watchful eye as they rushed people through to try and avoid suspicion. I had so much adrenaline coursing through me, it was practically choking me.
We made our way inside, and my mouth dropped. There were twice as many people here tonight as there were at the other fight.
Twice as many people to see one of the kings fall.
As if pulled by a string, my attention went upwards to where I could see the kings and their posse up on the higher balcony. It must've been a prerequisite for them while scouting locations, that they had a special viewing place they could lord over their people.
Stellan was by himself, leaning over the balcony…and staring right at me. And he didn't bother to pretend like he wasn't watching me. When the intensity between us became too much, I ripped my gaze away from his and marched forward. Jenna followed silently behind me. She grabbed one of my hands and squeezed it, and I could feel her trembling against my skin. I squeezed back, trying to make her feel better. Who knew, maybe she’d get a little taste for danger and begin to like it.
We pushed our way to the ring where there were already two fighters tearing into each other. Their form was sloppy, nothing like the artistry that Paxton displayed. But they were knocking the shit out of each other, which was always fun to watch. I almost took an elbow to the head at least ten times as I walked through the crowd, but finally, we made it to the front.
The smaller fight seemed to drag on. Paxton’s fight was, of course, at the end, and the warehouse just kept filling up. A couple of times I found myself staring up at the balcony when the guys would make an appearance, only grimacing slightly when a girl would be wrapped around them. Cain had three around him, obviously ready to suck his dick, and Remington was keeping some busy as well, but Stellan was standing off by himself, looking completely depressed.
For a moment, that night and how I’d felt broke through my carefully constructed barrier and washed over me. As much as I didn't want to admit it, he’d taken something from me that night, and it hadn't just been my virginity.
It took far too much to push that thought away.
The crowd noise level went from a roar to an ear splitting decibel, and I threw my full attention back to the ring where the same announcer as last time—Jack if I was remembering his name correctly—was pumping a fist in the air and prompting the crowd to get louder. His Mohawk wasn't green tonight, it was a dark purple, and his blazer was a garish orange color that somehow he made look cool. As his gaze drifted across the crowd, he noticed me standing outside the ring, and he winked.
"And now, for the fight all you cocksuckers have been fucking waiting for…" he crowed, which bizarrely only made the crowd get louder. “Facing off for the first time, Scarface and…Paxton Jones,” he screamed into his sparkly microphone.
The music changed to a dark song that I vaguely recognized as one of Marilyn Manson’s. The lyrics about devils and demons spun through the air as the crowd parted.
Scarface made his way towards the ring. I sighed in relief when I saw that he was wearing the dark red gloves that I’d given his trainer. He looked even more scarred than he had in his pictures, and I felt even more vindicated for what I was doing tonight.
He would win a shitload of money when he won this fight.
The crowd went crazy as he walked to the ring and slid inside before holding up one fist in the air, obviously not one for dramatics.
Scarface’s song melted into “Nine Inch Nails”. Energy pulsed in the air, and the crowd seemed to tremble with excitement, like they were all holding their collective breath until Paxton made an appearance. The minutes seemed to drag on before he appeared through a door and started to make his way through the crowd. I had to cover up my ears at this point because it was so loud, and the girls next to me were literally sobbing as they watched him reverently.
Here, Paxton was more than a king–he was a God. And these people all recognized it.
I wondered how everyone was going to react when they saw their hero fall.
He didn't notice me until he slipped into the ring, and then his gaze caught mine and his usually impenetrable stare slipped for a second as he gave me a cocky wink before schooling his face once more. Asshole.
Drumbeats started to blare out of the speakers, and the announcer looked like he was about to die in ecstasy as the crowd’s roar built around him.
"I'll give you one more second to get your bets in," he called to the crowd, and I looked behind me to see guys dressed in black spreading through the crowd collecting bets as they went. Didn't seem very technical. I wondered how they kept track of it all. Because I was pretty sure the guys had placed their bets earlier.
Finally, the fight was about to begin, and my heart was about to beat out of my chest.
"Is this going to be a bloodbath?" Jenna yelled into my ear, and I winced before giving her a bland shrug. She rolled her eyes at me and jumped up and down excitedly.
The announcer had his hand up, and then a bell rang and he jumped out of the ring as the fighters began to circle each other.
A bead of sweat trailed down Scarface’s back. He was obviously nervous, rightfully so, but I was counting on him to have his shit together. Paxton moved in first, leveling a hook shot at Scarface’s jaw, who just managed to drop back before getting his cheekbone caved in. That seemed to wake him up, because he began to come at Paxton, swinging at him ferociously a few times, but never making contact. Paxton made it look far too easy to move out of the way.
Another minute passed before Paxton got a hit in, and I realized that Paxton had been playing with him this whole time, which was not good. He needed a distraction. I turned my poster around and held it up, screaming Paxton's name.
The sound of my voice somehow drew his attention even through the raging of the crowd, and his gaze flashed over to me. When he saw the expertly photoshopped poster of Cain on his knees sucking Paxton’s cock, his steps faltered, allowing Scarface to get in a hit to the side of his head that had Paxton reeling from Scarface’s suped-up gloves. The crowd went quiet as Paxton stumbled, and I knew I had a manic grin on my face as my gaze flicked up to the balcony where Cain, Remington, and Stellan were all staring stonily down at the ring…and at me. Clearly unimpressed.
The cheers returned when Paxton shook his head and darted forward. Several hits in and Scarface was backing up, on the retreat.
That wouldn’t work. I held up the sign again and yelled, “Can I watch the next time Cain fucks you?” and I knew Paxton heard me because his eyes flicked over to me once more, allowing Scarface to get another hit in. I set the poster down, and then I pulled the strings of my top to loosen it before pulling it down and displaying the tan strapless bra that at first glance would look like I wasn't wearing anything.
I heard Paxton's "what the" as he saw what I was doing, and that was just what Scarface needed, because the next hit from him was so loud that the sound of it rattled through the warehouse and Paxton’s blood flew everywhere.
