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My heart is in my throat as I drag my eyes from Harley and his trainers to his best friend. “He’ll be fine. He’s got this,” I choke out. I’m repeating my words from before the fight, but I don’t know who I’m trying to convince–her or me.
Tom nudges me with his shoulder. “He’s got this.”
I nod, trying to force a smile, but I can’t do it. Instead, I turn my eyes back to the cage, watching as Zeke bends, cupping Harley’s face in his hands. He says something before slapping his cheek and straightening. Harley glares at him, giving him a slight shake of his head, but Zeke only smirks down at him before leaving the cage behind Steve.
Whatever Zeke said to Harley seems to have spurred him on a little in the second round. He gets in a couple of punches before kicking Martino in the ribs. I wince as the kick connects, clutching my own. I have first-hand experience of what that feels like.
“You okay?” Tom leans over and murmurs in my ear.
Sweat breaks out over my brow, and I think I’m going to be sick, but I just nod. The fight continues, and it’s the longest five minutes of my life.
I’ve been to fights before, back in Sydney. My cousin’s boyfriend fought in some underground matches, which were a hell of a lot more brutal than this. I went to some larger UFC fights as well. My father was always dragging me along to charity matches–it was a good schmoozing opportunity for him whilst laundering his money through the bookies. And I have to admit, I got a thrill out of seeing Harley in his first fight. Seeing him all sweaty and primal–it was hot. But tonight, it’s much harder to sit through. I don’t like seeing him in pain–even if it is just for sport.
Martino sweeps Harley’s legs, and they’re grappling on the canvas again. Harley tucks his chin to his chest as Martino tries to wedge his forearm into his neck. Oh my God! Is he going to try and choke him out? My hand comes up to cover my mouth as bile rushes up the back of my throat.
Something is not right. Harley’s not fighting back. I clutch Tom’s arm, my nails digging in. Why is he not fighting back?
I squeeze my eyes shut, the roar of the crowd sounding as if it’s underwater. My heart races, and I try to block out the memories from rushing in and overwhelming me. The feel of his hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing as my nails ripped at his skin. The panic that started to sink in as Istruggled to draw a breath, my legs kicking out but finding no purchase.
He'd come over one night when my parents weren’t there. He was drunk from a night out, and tried to take what he wanted from me, but I knew what my father would do to me if he found out I’d given up my virtue before the wedding–before the contracts were signed, sealed, and delivered. If I’d given it up to him before the wedding, he’d have cause to call off the wedding, and I’d be as good as dead at my father’s hand.
My mistake was trying to fight him, though. I’d kneed him in the balls and tried to shove him off me. I should have known I was never going to win. I was born into a world where the women submit–plain and simple. To go against the men in our life was pretty much a death sentence. I was just lucky that his anger overwhelmed his sex drive, and he’d decided to beat me black and blue rather than rape me.
I’m taken back to that night, the tightening in my chest increased as black dots clouded my vision. There was a searing pain when his fist connected with my nose right before I blacked out.
TWENTY
HARLEY
I GROAN, WINCING as the bright light shining directly in my eyes has me wrenching my face out of the doc’s hands. He’s already stitched up the cut on my cheek, and I don’t have the patience to sit through any more of his poking and prodding. “I’m fine,” I growl out, scowling at both him and Steve. “I tapped out before I lost consciousness. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
I’m pissed.
So fucking pissed. I went into that fight distracted. I deserved to get my ass handed to me.
Steve shares a look with the doc, and he nods before packing away his instruments of torture. I start unwrapping the tape around my wrists, trying to tame my growing anger. I’m a fucking idiot for allowing myself to get so caught up with my attraction to another girl I can’t have.
Lily is dealing with an abusive ex, and I’m obsessingover her like a freaking teenager with his first crush. She hasn’t said anything about what she was running from in Sydney, but I saw the bruises. Whoever hurt her didn’t give a fuck about her.
Steve hasn’t taken his eyes off me, as if he’s cataloguing and assessing my every move. Eventually the silence gets too much for me, and I snap. “Spit it out.”
He narrows his eyes. “What the hell happened out there?”
I shove off the table, flinging the wad of tape across the room. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
But I do know. I know exactly what went wrong. I went into the cage with only one thing on my mind: how much I want what I can’t have. Story of my life.
Steve sighs, realising he’s not going to get anything out of me in this mood. “Shower up and go home, kid.”
“Zeke’s fight–”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “You’re not in the headspace to be here. Go home.”
There’s no use arguing with him. He’s not going to listen. I head into the showers, and by the time I come out, he’s gone. I quickly dress, grab my bag, and leave the room. I come to a stop when I get into the hallway though. Tom’s standing at the end with a bulked-up guy covered in tatts. He glances around, and I shrink back into the shadows, watching as he accepts an envelope from the dude, slipping it into his pocket before shaking his hand.
What the fuck?He’s only just gotten off two years’probation after getting out of prison. What the hell shady deals is he doing? And what is he even doing here?
I groan. Lily. She’s the only one who knew I had another fight locked in. My chest tightens thinking about her. Did she come tonight? Did she see me get my ass handed to me?
