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One jab to his face.
The crowd screams.
My opponent throws a left punch, but I block it by covering my face and ducking, releasing a right cross punch to his chin. His head snaps back and blood pours out of his nose but he stays on his feet.
The fucker regains his balance, turns to the side, and spits a gob of blood from his mouth. Using the back of his hand, he wipes his mouth and gets back into a boxing stance.
My concentration breaks when I hear my brother’s voice in the crowd. I turn to my right and see the mix of rage and worry on his face. The distraction gives my opponent the opportunity to strike the side of my face. I stagger backward until my back hits the cage. He lunges at me and pins me against the cage with his forearm.
“You know; Christian is having a blast playing with your girl.” He laughs wickedly.
“What did you say?”
“Shorty…she’s being punished for her sins. I jerk off to her cries. She cries for you. As soon as I put your ass down, I’m going back to enjoy her pretty tight little body and stick my—”
I slam my fist into the side of his jaw, and another to his nose. He staggers backward, but I don’t stop. Wild fury ignites each blow to his face, stomach, ribs, and back to his face.
Each jab is precise and unforgiving.
The sound of the crowd cheering and chanting my name ignites my adrenaline.
The image of Shorty’s bruised and broken body lying on the floor, and her pain-filled cries as she begged her father to stop.
I take out all my pain and anger over the years and pummel them into my enemy’s face and body.
“Where is she?!” I roar in his face, but he doesn’t respond.
A whistle blows and the referee fail attempts to pull me off him. If I continue the jabs, I will kill him and won’t feel an ounce of remorse.
“D! Stop!” My brother manages to pull me off and holds my arms back, leading me away from the Pit. My opponent lays on the ground, bleeding, struggling to breathe.
“And the winner is…Donnie the Detonator!”
Women throw themselves at me as we barrel through the crowd. As soon as we’re outside, I slam my fist into a tree.
“FUCK!”
“D, what the hell has gotten into you? You could’ve killed him!” Ash yells.
“He knows where she is.”
“Who?”
“Shorty.” I turn to face my brother.
“Wh-what?”
“He was sent by Christian to fight me. To mock me that he has her.” My body is soaked in sweat and panic grips my chest at the thought of what he has done to Shorty during the time she’s been missing.
Two goddamn weeks since she’s been taken.
Two weeks since I’ve held her, touched her, and kissed her.
Roman’s boisterous voice breaks through my thoughts of Shorty. “My man! You just won me $2,500! Whoo!” Roman hoots and hollers, strolling out to meet us.
“Here’s your half.” He hands me a wad of hundred-dollar bills.
“Fuck off, Roman,” Ash snaps.
