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Fucking hell. I should have known she’d get Aaron to cave.
My gaze snaps up into the audience, searching for those familiar baby blues. It doesn’t take long to find her. After all, she’s standing among the rowdiest bunch in the whole place with a fucking horse-sized dog right beside her.
I narrow my stare on Charli and she reads me like a book, instantly understanding the meaning within my gaze. She is in deep shit, but from her returning grin, she doesn’t have a single fuck to give.
My stare flicks toward Aaron, knowing he was the pussy-whipped boyfriend who allowed my girl to pull this off. I should have known she would pull something like this. “Sorry, man,” he mouths, but I realize that even without Aaron’s help, Charli would have eventually found her way here.
The announcer calls out the stats for Pitbull when I finally put faces on the rowdy people surrounding my girl. The whole fucking hockey team has shown up, and seeing as though they still remain undefeated after tonight’s game, it’s no wonder they’re so rowdy. Knowing they’re here and looking out for Charli makes me feel a lot better about her being here, but don’t get me wrong. We’re still having words tonight.
The announcer finally calls Pitbull to the ring, and I look over to the opposite side of the ring where the opposition would usually come from. Only he doesn’t appear from there. My eyes snap to a commotion in the crowd and notice Pitbull literally pushing his way through the body of people to get to the ring.
I feel sorry for the pricks in his way. Judging by the look on his face and the crowd’s reaction, he isn’t pushing them gently. He’s here to inflict as much harm as possible. I hope he enjoys this little show he’s putting on, because it’s the only one he’ll get tonight.
My gaze flicks up to Charli, making sure she’s okay after seeing him again, but all I see is that angry little line between her eyebrows giving her away. Her stare moves from Pitbull to me, and that line smooths out. “Destroy him,” she mouths.
I nod my head. No chance in hell that I’ll be letting her down tonight.
Pitbull makes it to the center of the ring and faces me with a vicious scowl and a face full of cuts and bruises. I can’t help but smirk at the asshole, knowing those marks are a sign of what he did to my girl. Those marks stand as a reminder for me which, unlucky for him, only spurs me on.
“Thought you were too chicken shit to show,” I say, using the phrase Charli had used against him.
His eyes narrow, filled with venom. “You better fucking watch it,” he growls before cracking his knuckles, trying to appear tough.
“I better watch it?” I question. “You took my girl off the street and beat her. You’ll be fucking lucky if I let you out of this ring alive.”
I’m usually the silent, broody type before a match, but I know the more I frustrate him, the deeper inside his head I’ll get and the easier this takedown will be. And right now, by the way his eyes are shooting daggers at me, I’m already there, deep inside his head.
The ref calls a start to the match before he has a chance to reply and I jump straight into action, moving as fast as lightning. Pitbull is too wound up in his own anger that he doesn’t even see me coming, and I land a devastating blow just below his chest, winding him.
The hit knocks him off balance, but it’s not enough to do any damage. The crowd roars, but he quickly shakes it off and comes right for me. He throws his arm around my body, attempting to hold me while his other arm comes around in a quick short arc, taking a cheap shot at my ribs. The blow is devastating, but nothing I can’t handle. Had he hit me just an inch higher, I would have been fucked.
We scramble around as he attempts to land a blow while I try to hold onto the upper hand. I manage to duck under his arm and lean back into the ropes. I quickly push myself back before letting myself fly forward with the momentum of the ropes. I come at him with fists flying and a kick combination.
His boxing skills can hardly keep up, and it doesn’t take long until he’s fumbling around, looking like a damn fool. Blood drips from his lip while the rest of his body is covered in red marks. My knuckles are bleeding, but most of it is held back by tape.
My fist comes up and I nail him in the jaw. The crowd roars and the sound of Beast’s bark is heard over the top as Pitbull’s head is thrown backward. He quickly shuffles back, giving himself a moment to find his footing and spits a mouthful of blood onto the concrete floor.
