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Yanking my attention back to the present, I try to focus on the fight to come. The crowd outside the chains is already growing loud. Some pounding on the stands, demanding that fists fly now. I bounce on the balls of my feet and shake out my arms.
I know my pack is to my right, and that Audrey is with them, but I don’t look. I can’t.
Sweat already ghosts down my spine as I warm up my arms by throwing punches that cut through the air. I know the procedure, come into the ring, put on a show to get the crowd betting. Then beat the living shit out of my opponent. Eyeing the larger alpha, I size him up. He throws his punches, but his left jab looks like he holds back. Impatient to begin, he hops lightly on the balls of his feet. Clearly showing which side he favors.
If my opponents knew how much they gave away before we even started, they would stand like a statue until the bell.
Garrett steps into the ring and roars over the crowd, gathering attention and listing the rules. Knock out equals a win. Down for ten seconds, another win. Twenty minutes with neither and it is a draw.
Five rounds of four minutes each, with a minute break. Immediate disqualification if there is any gouging of the eyes, groin strikes, strikes to the back of the head, biting, hair pulling, and striking the throat or spine.
His words become noise in the background as I watch the man I’m going to take down. I know the rules. This was my second home after I escaped my father’s harsh rules. Often, I would picture his face while I took my opponents down. It was a release for my anger, and I’m hoping it does the trick tonight.
Garrett steps out of the ring, the chain-linked door clanging shut behind him. I approach the center and touch knuckles with the alpha I’m fighting. The bell sounds, and the crowd surges, the noise level becoming deafening. The ringing from the screams and the absolute silence as they break the sound decibel makes my ears pop.
I fake to the left, and he follows. His punch hits air, before I jab him under his ribcage, forcing the air from his lungs. He grunts and stumbles before coming back at me. More frantic, less in control. Off kilter. I grin and slam into his other side, following him as he retreats. He grabs my head, attempting to control my movements. But I’m smaller and faster. I pound into his stomach until he collapses. His weight pressing me down. I kick out from beneath him, and he bucks as I straddle him.
I lean forward, already seeing the win. I hold him to the mat as he struggles. When he attempts to grab me again, I shift so my knees pin his shoulders to the ground, and my groin is in his face. The ding-ding-ding indicating the ten seconds sound, and I release him. He grunts and gets to his feet.
Effortlessly, I push to mine. When we meet in the middle for the next round, he doesn’t smile, and he barely touches my knuckles. Guess he doesn’t like to be smothered by my dick. I grin. It is a feral twist of my lips, and nothing like my practiced and well-mannered one I use in polite society.
“The next one is mine,” he mutters.
I laugh, a toss of my head, an exposing of my throat. A complete lack of fear. Or maybe I’m just that damaged.
“You’re going to need to be faster on your feet to take me down,” I reply.
The bell rings, and he lunges. No skill. His training is thrown out the window with his anger. He lands a hit to my jaw, and the pain that cracks through me is welcomed. Yes, this is what I need. I let him hit me again. My head snaps back, and I slam against the chains as I twist away from him. As I push away, my eyes land on Audrey’s horrified gaze. Her hand preses over her mouth, and her large brown eyes dwarf her face.
I grin and straighten out. Turning, I duck his next punch before hitting him hard just beneath his ribcage again. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up with internal bleeding. This is the one place my anger can be fully on display. Everyone expects it.
In seconds, he is back on the mat. I lay over him, holding him down with my weight. When the bell sounds, I spring to my feet and offer him a hand that he slaps away. Oh, have I pissed him off?
When we meet in the center again, I say, “You favor your right. It is easy to slip in. Once I’m in, you’ve lost. You need better defense of your sides.”
He growls. I grin and spit out some blood that gathered from my teeth cutting into my cheek.
“Take it or leave it, just trying to make the fight more challenging.” I shrug.
As soon as the bell sounds, he is dropping his elbows, protecting his sides, and jabbing at me when I get close. Complete defense mode. I bounce on the balls of my feet and circle him, looking for a new opening.
With an upper cut, his head jerks back and his elbows drop for a fraction of a second. Enough for me to slice right through his defenses. He topples to the mat as my fists slam into his chest, breaking a rib. He cries out and stays down. His hand grips his side as he takes shallow breaths. Garrett unlocks the cage and strolls back in. He grabs my wrist and holds it high, announcing my win.
“Find me someone harder,” I say as he drops my arm. Then I stroll past him, back out of the cage, without looking at the roaring crowd.
CHAPTER29
Audrey
If I thoughtthe first fight was bad, the second topped it. And the third is planning on taking the cake. I tug out of Austin’s arms, my fingers cut into the chain-link fence as Dean’s opponent lands hit after hit. My stomach churns at the blood dripping off of his chin as he shoots a bloody grin at the larger alpha and charges.
He pounds his fists into the guy's sides, the impact of his punches loud even over the uncontrolled and rowdy crowd. The man falls like a dead tree in the forest. Dean follows him down like a man possessed. He is primal and violent, obviously relishing every moment. While my heart is bouncing between my throat and ass as it decides what way it is planning to escape.
Dean climbs to his feet and circles the cage, his arms in the air, taking the win before the man is down for the count. I see the alpha twitch in preparation of springing back to his feet, and I scream out a warning that I’m sure he can’t hear over the crowd.
“Dean, behind you!”
His eyes snap to me, as if he can actually pick my voice out of the clamouring crowd. An electric current runs between us and feels like it lasts an eternity before it shatters. The man lands a punch to his kidney. The pain on Dean’s face slices through me as if it is my own, and he stumbles for the first time. He hits the fence right where I’m gripping it. We are inches apart as he gathers himself to return to the fight.
