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Chapter One
Tyson
Present Day
Poundingmusicblaredthroughthe arena as I stepped out of the hallway into the massive crowd. Some cheered when they saw me, holding out their hands as I sauntered down the aisle toward the octagon. I didn’t make eye contact. I was focused. But the energy of the people flowed through me like a shot of adrenaline straight to the veins.
I lived for this.
Tonight was the single most important fight of my career. I’d been working toward this night for almost three years. I was on an impressive winning streak for my weight class and there were eyes on me now. Eyes that would help me get to the next level of MMA.
I stopped before the gates of the octagon. A burly, gruff looking man stomped up to me. I didn’t look into his face as he flexed his muscles. Slipping off my thin, zippered hoodie, I handed it to my trainer behind me. The muscled dude checked me over, making sure I wasn’t concealing anything to cheat. Like I could hide something in this outfit—nothing but a pair of skintight shorts.
He nodded when he was done, stepping back and letting me enter the ring.
My opponent was already waiting. He flexed his abundance of muscles. I suppressed a smile as he glowered, his lip curling into a snarl. Cheers ricocheted through the arena as we stepped up to each other. Chants of, “Viper! Viper! Viper!” made my blood sing.
I’d managed to make a name for myself in some circles. The small recognition of all my hard work made me feel like I could conquer the world. And maybe I could.
The ref introduced my opponent and me. The crowd erupted when they heard Tyson “The Viper” Ranes.
My rival, also known as “The Tank”, had a similar supportive roar, but not as loud. He raised his arm as his fans cheered, encouraging them to continue. He’d been doing well and was on a winning streak of his own, but not like mine. He was the decisive underdog. I was better. I knew it in my bones and from studying his past fights.
I was going to win this.
The Tank bounced on the balls of his feet. His dark hair was cropped short and his brown skin glistened in the flashing lights. He was shorter than me, but built like his namesake. He was about as graceful as a tank too when he fought. Barreling in, rather than using any finesse.
My feet stayed planted firmly, my muscles loose, but ready to spring. I focused on my opponent, sharp and ready. He wasn’t going to beat me.
The instant the ref started the fight, The Tank kicked out, but it was slow and easily dodged. I twisted in an instant and landed two good jabs to his body. The crowd cheered, but he was hardly affected. It didn’t matter, they were mostly a test.
The two of us danced around each other, circling as we assessed. We went back and forth, both landing blows in quick succession. I spat a mouthful of blood on the floor after he managed a solid punch to my jaw. I had to admit, I was impressed. He was better than I anticipated.
But I wasn’t worried. We circled each other again, two predators looking for the best opportunity to land the kill-shot. I knew this was almost over. He was good, but I was better. He was weak on his left side, leaving himself open and vulnerable. I’d already gotten in a few blows and I was about to end this.
I lashed out with my leg, ready to kick the soft flesh beneath his ribs…but he was prepared for it. It was almost as if he was reading my mind as he blocked the kick. Before I even planted my foot again, he kicked out at my weight-bearing leg. There was nothing I could do to protect myself as his foot landed on my quad, stomping as he put pressure down and inward, twisting my leg and knee until a hot, tearing pain ripped through my entire leg.
I almost fell completely, barely managing to catch myself before I hit the mat. I transferred all my weight to my uninjured leg. But in the effort to keep standing, I’d let my guard down. All my attention shifted from my opponent, to the pain radiating through my leg.
Whipping my head up, there was just enough time to see his fist bearing down on me before a burst of pain erupted on the side of my head and everything went black.
The next thing I was aware of was a steady beeping noise. I groaned as the pain in my body came to the forefront of my consciousness. I knew where I was before I opened my eyes. This wasn’t the first time I’d ended up in the hospital.
I lifted my eyelids, only managing to get one of them to open. The other must’ve been swollen shut. I stared at the ceiling as the memory, the realization, came crashing down on me. Followed instantly by the anger.
Rage roiled in my chest like boiling water; hot and urgent. I’d lost the fight. A knockout. My hands clenched into fists. Blood pooled in my mouth as I bit down on my tongue. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for that. That tank of a guy had been ready. He’d been baiting me to take that strike. Making it look like he was vulnerable when he wasn’t. He had completely played me.
How could I have been so stupid?
“Ty?” A familiar voice distracted me from my self-loathing.
I turned my head, meeting the sad, brown eyes of my big brother. My mouth fell open as I blinked at him. If Atlas was here, in my hospital room, then it was something serious.
I’d been so distracted by my anger I hadn’t taken stock of my injuries.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
He stood from the chair at my bedside, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d traveled a long way from Northern Alabama to get here. The hard line of his jaw suggested he wasn’t happy.
