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I know the doc will give me shit about my stitches, but I don’t care. If I die tonight, whoever I end up fighting will be doing me a favour. At least then I don’t have to stick around to watch my brothers betray me by killing the girl I can’t seem to stay away from. The one I don’t deserve. The one I can’t possibly live without. The one I love.
I’m sure that they’re all waiting on me back at the house, but I’m not going back. I need to find someone else to fight, because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t fight my brothers, so a stranger will have to step in to fill their place. Because my rage is still pumping hot through my veins and the only thing that will sate me is quenching my thirst for blood.
I walk down the dark alley, my eyes scanning for any potential opponents or enemies lurking in the shadows. Obviously, I’m going to go to the camping ground and fight in the ring properly, but if any Shikari want to spring an attack on me tonight, I’d welcome it.
I need to release this pent-up energy before it consumes me.
When I reach the garage, I take one of the bikes knowing it will get me to the campground in Two Harbours much quicker. I hesitate before grabbing my helmet and pulling it on, then I gun the engine and take off, riding recklessly.
I stride into the reception area and am met by the doc, a sardonic expression on her face.
“All healed, pup?”
I scowl at her. “Save it. I’m no pup.”
“But youaremy patient.”
I fix her with a hard look and when she narrows her gaze on me, fully prepared to give me shit, I switch tactics and give her my best puppy-dog eyes despite just telling her I’m not a pup.
“I need to fight tonight, Doc. I’ll make you lots of money, I swear.”
She sighs. “I’m not paying you.”
“I don’t care. Hell, the mood I’m in, I’d pay you to let me fight.”
“Don’t kill anyone. I’m still recovering from saving your sorry ass. I’m not working tonight.”
“Fine.” I grind out, disappointed and pissed off. The doc doesn’t usually give a shit if my opponents leave in a body bag, but whatever. I’ll do my best, but I’m not about to make any promises.
“Get your ass downstairs and get ready. Don’t make me regret this.”
“You won’t. Who ever regretted making a shit tonne of money?”
She waves me off, and I head down to the pit where the fighting takes place. The basement room is rammed, a wall of noise hitting me as I enter.
Fight night is already well underway, with two opponents facing off in the caged ring.
I make my way through the crowd to the edge of the pit, watching the fight unfold. The two fighters are evenly matched, both throwing punches and kicks with deadly precision. The crowd roars as they exchange blows, blood spattering across the ring.
I feel eyes on me, and the electric atmosphere seems to increase through the crowd as whispers of my presence spread.
As the fight ends and the winner is declared, I step forward and climb into the ring, ready to face my opponent. I know I’m not in the best shape for a fight, but I can’t let that stop me. I need to release this pent-up rage.
My opponent steps forward, a hulking figure with bulging muscles and a sneer on his face. He looks like he can take a hit or two, but so can I. As I approach him, my fists clench at my sides. He’s clearly been in the fight game for a while, and I can tell he’s not going to hold back.
It’s odd that I’ve never seen him before. Before Malia came along, I was in this place weekly. Sometimes nightly. I know I’ve not been here for a while, but the faces in the crowd are mostly familiar.
Not this guy though.
I strip off my shirt and brace myself as the bell rings. I expect him to rush me straight away, but he doesn’t. Instead, we circle each other, sizing each other up, before I lunge forward and throw the first punch. It connects with his jaw, and I feel a sense of satisfaction as he stumbles back. But he recovers quickly.
We charge forward, fists flying. Soon, we’re trading blows, the sound of the crowd fading away, replaced by the adrenaline pumping through my veins and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
I duck and weave, dodging his punches and landing more than a few of my own. The sounds of the crowd cheering us on echoes through the pit.
As the fight wears on, I can feel my stitches pulling and my vision starting to blur. But I can’t give up now. I’m still too angry.
I land a solid punch on my opponent’s already bruised jaw, and he stumbles back. I see my opening and go for the knockout blow, but he recovers too quickly and lands a devastating punch to my gut. I gasp for air, stumbling back and barely able to stay on my feet.
