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A small spark of hope flares inside that maybe things will work out. That is until Harley’s name gets called for the next fight–and his opponent is the calculating old guy that looks like Santa Claus.
FORTY
HARLEY
THE SPOTLIGHT ILLUMINATING me is blinding, and I wince, blinking away the bright spots covering my vision. A lock clicks, and the metal door screeches open. A big beefy hand reaches in and pulls me roughly to my feet.
“You’re up, Surfer Boy.”
I can hear the laughter in his voice as he says my fighter name, and I silently curse Zeke and his sick sense of humour. I flex my wrapped hands, rolling out my shoulders and trying to release some of the tension that has built up in my body over the last two hours as I’ve sat here watching the men before me.
The masked security guard gives me a not-so-gentle shove, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and wipe the guy out, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to get my brother out of his mess.
I roll my neck from side to side, loosening my joints as I make my way down to the cage. I haven’t yet seen myopponent. I’m trying hard not to think about it until I’m facing him in the cage. There’s no way I’m going to get as lucky as Zeke. The so-called Viper was so green it was a joke. He hadn’t even landed one punch before Zeke knocked him out. But if I think about it too hard, I’d realise I’m probably only one step up from the kid. This will only be my third fight. So far, I’m one win, one loss. Let’s hope for my sake, and Tom’s life, that I’m not about to get my ass handed to me. Hopefully I can at least put up a bit more of a fight.
I don’t look for Lily. I need to stay focused on winning this thing, and I can’t do that if I think about how dangerous it is for her to be here. Not that there was any chance of getting her to wait for me at home. I just have to trust that Lachy and Tom are keeping her safe–and far away from the loan sharks that are after Tom. I won’t forgive myself if she gets hurt in all of this.
I step into the cage, stretching one arm across my body and then the other before shaking them out. I bounce on my toes, trying to limber up. I need to be quick on my feet and keep my wits about me if I’m going to beat my opponent.
Speaking of, he steps into the cage, and I try to keep the surprise off my face. The guy is around sixty years old with a full head of white hair and a matching neatly trimmed beard. Fuck, he looks like a buff Santa Claus, and he’s aptly named The White Wolf. He’s also got at least thirty pounds on me. His chest is covered with a faded wolf surrounded by skulls and roses, and the man is shredded. He flexes his hands, and his stance tells me he knows what he’s doing.
I grit my teeth. This is not going to be easy.
The White Wolf eyes me as we wait for bets to be placed. His heavy gaze is shrewd and calculated. He’s assessing me for weakness, just as I am him. He favours his left leg, which I take note of, but he still seems fairly agile for his age. I can’t underestimate him.
The masked referee calls us into the middle of the cage. He runs through the rules, and I’m honestly surprised when he doesn’t say, “The rules are, there are no rules.” Zeke massively underplayed how full on these underground fights are. I haven’t seen one man willing to tap out yet, and I doubt this guy is going to be any different. He and I will be having words after I make it out of here… hopefully alive.
MY RIGHT EYE is swollen shut, and I duck to avoid the follow up left hook coming my way. I land a blow to The White Wolf’s ribcage before dancing out of his reach.
We’ve been duking it out for about fifteen minutes, and although I’m fit, fatigue is starting to set in. I’m not used to this format of fighting. The old man keeps coming at me, and I’ll give it to him–he’s a damn good fighter. But he’s not fighting for his brother’s life.
I keep my hands up to protect my head, biting down on my mouthguard as I move around the cage, watching and waiting for my next opportunity. The White Wolf tries to keep to my right, knowing I have a blind spot now andtrying to take advantage of it.
I turn my head to keep him in my line of sight, just as he lunges for me. I duck and throw a punch at the same time, lancing him in the jaw and grimacing as blood sprays onto the mat. The White Wolf pulls back, shaking his head and moving his jaw from side to side. I didn’t break anything, but he’s dazed.
Taking my opportunity, I sweep out my leg and take him down. I climb on top of him, locking his legs in place with mine so he can’t buck me off. I land blows where I can–his ribs, his face, his arms, any spare inch of his body that is left exposed–while also still trying to protect myself. By now I’ve figured out that no fighter in these fights is going to tap out. I need to check my morals at the door and do what I have to do to win.
The old man is determined, but after grappling with him for a few minutes, I finally see my chance, and I take it. I bring my elbow down on his temple and it’s lights out for The White Wolf.
FORTY-ONE
LILY
HARLEY DID IT. He won the fight! For a second, time stands still as I process what has just happened, and then Lachy turns to me, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around. I hold on to him tight, laughing.
Harley won, and Lachy doubled down on him!
Oh my God!
Harley won his fight.
Lachy just won twenty grand.
Harley won twenty grand for winning his fight,andhe gets a cut of the night’s takings. Depending on how much that is, we might have enough to pay off Tom’s debts.
Holy shit.
After Lachy collects his winnings in an envelope filled with wads of hundred-dollar bills, we push our way down through the crowd to the entrance of the cage. Two masked security guards are removing a dazed and confused White Wolf, and I turn my head into Lachy so I don’t have towatch. These fights have been so much more brutal than the ones at Knockout.
