The crowd roars at the spray of blood that splatters across the concrete floor. My opponent, a guy with more muscle than brain, staggers before he drops down to one knee.
I don’t even need to hit him again. Not really.
There are no rules in this ring, aside from those limiting permanent disfigurement or death. So when I spin around, my foot slamming into him and sending him flying back into the ropes, the crowd only chants for more.
A screaming, frenzied mass. It’s fucking wild in here tonight. I’m already on my third fight, and the crowd keeps swelling.
River tosses me a bottle of water as I head to the corner, wiping my face off with the towel he hands me next. “Kai.”
Another guy ducks under the rope as my last opponent is dragged off, but River grabs my arm. “Enough. I’m barely holding him together. You’re getting tired. All it takes is one hit and he’s going to lose his shit.”
He’s not wrong. But the crowd is chanting my name. A group like this can turn on a fucking dime, and this isn’t the space for a mass brawl. We don’t have the men to manage it, for starters.
And another fight could double our takings for the night, between the betting and the drinks. Shaking my head, I brush River off.One more and I’m done.
I doubt I’d have another one in me anyway. He groans behind me. “I’m going back to the bar.”
But I’m already striding to the middle, bouncing lightly on my feet as I check my wraps. I glance up, catching sight of Jenson among the horde, sitting at a table with his arms crossed.
He doesn’t look happy. He glares at me.Get out of there.
I shrug.I want to do one more.
His irritation is better than the numb expression he’s been walking around with since I took Briar home.
Five days since I’ve seen her. Since any of us have seen her.
And Jenson still hasn’t reached out to her, losing himself in alcohol and work and every other excuse he can think of. He’s the only one who can fucking fix this.
I’ve never seen anyone so riddled with guilt but refusing to admit it.
Not that I’ve spoken to her either, aside from a few brief messages. And I can’t fucking call her. Although she’s not taking River’s calls either.
She’s hurt. I don’t fucking blame her.
I can’t fix that.
Can’t fix Jenson.
I can’t fucking fixanything.
But this, I can do.
My distraction costs me. A fist slams into my face, the hit more direct than I’d like. The crowd boos as I spin, nearly going down before I catch myself and spit blood from the inside of my cheek out onto the floor. But the heavy fucker catches me again, andthis time I hit the ground, tasting iron on my tongue and trying to shake off the rattle inside my head.
Shit. I don’t dare catch Jenson’s eye as I drag myself upright. I flick a quick glance in his direction.
And I pause.
He’s pale, and he’s on his feet. He bellows something – and that’sterroron his face, as he points.
Whirling, I brace for the inevitable impact. But nothing comes.
Instead, a small, dark-haired figure darts in front of me. Getting in between me and the beefy, hazy-eyed fucker charging my way, her hands up to stop the fight.
But this isn’t a normal fight.
My soul just about leaves my damn body.
