“My men already dug your grave up in the valley. Was nice meetin’ ya, pal.” Patting his shoulder with a grin, I step back into my corner. The guy turns fucking livid.
Good, a frightened opponent gets desperate, messy, thinks he’s about to die, and forgets his chances to win. The crowds keep shouting, folks move to get a better view, the music echoes louder in my ears, but I shut it all down. Inhaling deeply once, I turn the chaos into white noise pulsing through me and leaving me in my own space, watching McHallor’s every move as if they’re in slow motion ‘cause I’m that fucking focused. The bell rings and I step forward, ready to show my wife what her husband is made of.
Mia
This is the worst. Literally.
I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, surrounded by men shouting and roaring, the air thick with sweat and tension. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a social gal, but this isn’t like a cute coffee shop with floral scents and pop music in the background. The only bright side is that I got to eat with Erin in Shadow’s office before the fights, and Larry’s healthy casserole made my day.
The first two fights were brutal, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Two guys beat each other senselessly until some guy with a whistle and a white shirt decided it was over. There was blood, sure, but nothing too bad. Kind of like watching a boxingmovie—except here, the sounds of bones cracking and flesh smacking are way too real and way too close.
“Phew, boring, huh? I can’t wait for the last fight,” Erin says, glancing at me with a smile. She seems way too excited about this. More people are gathering around the cage now, and it only makes my hands more sweaty.
This is what they’ve been waiting for.
Ares’s fight.
“Ash?” I call out hesitantly, turning to my right, where he’s been sitting quietly all night. His friend Carter is on the opposite side of the room, a tall blond guy with short hair and a face that looks more like a robot than a human, watching everything like some kind of hawk. He hasn’t even come to say hi to me. So weird.
“Do you know who he’s fighting?” I raise my voice over the growing noise, peeling off my nail polish as my nerves spike.
“Canadian guy. Bulky. Saw him fight once. The guy can manage,” he declares.
“Do you think—” But Ash interrupts me, his eyes flicking to the side.
“Watch. It’s starting.” He points to the right of the room. I follow his gaze to a tall, muscular guy stepping out of the shadows. The crowd erupts in cheers as he enters the cage, pumping his fists in the air like some kind of gladiator. He runs a few laps inside the octagon, pounding his chest like he already won. Testosterone-fueled nonsense.
“That’s Brendan McHallor, crooked with debt to the club. He’s gonna try to ask for Ares’s mercy,” says Ash, rubbing his palms before resting his elbows on his thighs.
So that’s how they settle things here? In cages?
“On your left, Mrs Malone,” Ash says, and I turn just in time to see Ares stepping into the hall. The crowd parts for him, their cheers growing louder, almost frantic. My heartskips a beat as I see him—his strong, imposing figure cutting through the sea of people like a force of nature, wearing only his bandages and black shorts. He walks to the octagon barefoot and this is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. His naked tattooed chest shining with a thin layer of sweat, his short brown hair disheveled, making him look so attractive I wish I could get closer just to run my hand on his light stubble and feel his musky, manly scent intoxicate me.
Kiara was right. Hot as hell, indeed.
The ground beneath is trembling with the intensity of the crowd’s chants. “ARES! ARES! ARES!” It’s deafening, and my pulse quickens. I glance at Ash and notice a proud grin on his face. Ares walks toward the cage with a calm, almost too casual demeanor, his gaze locked onto the Canadian guy. His attitude is dark, focused, and more animal than man.
So focused that he doesn’t even look at me.
Why would he even bother?
“Girl, your man is in the zone! Look at him,” Erin says as she squeezes my hand quickly. The bell rings, and my breath catches.
Don’t get hurt.
Don’t get hurt.
Don’t get hurt.
Ares moves faster than I expected. His fists fly with brutal precision, and before I know it, he’s landing hit after hit. The other guy stumbles, clearly caught off guard by Ares’ speed. The crowd erupts in cheers, and a wave of relief wash over me. I don’t know a lot about fighting, but that must be good, right? Ares has this under control, just like Ash and Erin promised.
“In the pocket, get in the fuckin’ pocket!” shouts a guy in Ares’ corner, his cut enhanced with the nameTank. I glance at Ash, but his smile has disappeared for a deep frown. Lookingback at the cage with Ares and the other guy circling around each other, something shifts.
Ares sends a few hits in the guy's ribs, but the guy recovers, his movements becoming more calculated, more deliberate. He starts landing punches, each one harder than the last. Ares blocks a few, but I can see the impact in the way his body jolts, the way he takes a split second longer to counter. Sweat drips down his face, mixing with the blood from a cut above his eye.
Come on. You got this. Don’t let him get to you.
My palms join instinctively under my chin as I stare at my husband, bleeding in front of me. Ares throws a punch, but the Canadian dodges it, coming back with a brutal fist that sends Ares staggering back.
