“You’ve got one minute left to fight me, Caleb.” My voice is calm. Almost bored.
He wipes the blood off his lip and snarls, “Fuck you.”
Then he charges.
And my smile widens feral and hungry.
Because if this bastard thinks he’s walking away with a win? Then he hasn’t met me yet.
I don’t give him the luxury of finishing his swing.
My hand snaps up—fingers curling under his jaw, palm crushing against his throat.
He chokes on air, and before his arms even rise in defense, I seize it and squeeze.
Crack.
The sound is wet, sickening, and it pumps my blood like ecstasy. His shoulder collapses under the force.
He screams.
I slam him to the floor like dropping garbage. His body hits with a heavy, humiliating thud. He doesn’t even resist when my boot crashes down on his chest, holding him in place like a pinned insect.
He wheezes, twitching beneath me.
Eyes wide.
Broken.
Josh sobs from the chair across the room. It’s loud, shrill, pathetic.
I don’t even look as I unclip my helmet and throw with force across the room, fast and clean.
It slams hard, straight into Josh’s face.
He screams, head snapping backward, blood pouring from his nose.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say flatly
Thankfully, he didn’t pass out from it, but at least it’s quiet now.
The silence that follows is loud with fear.
I press my boot harder into Caleb’s chest, not enough to kill him, just enough to remind him he’s alive only because I allow it.
I look down at Caleb, watching his chest shudder beneath the weight of my boot.
“I’m going to feed your dick to you,” I say, voice low and steady, “and watch you choke on it as the light drains from your eyes.”
His gaze widens with terror. He tries to speak, but it comes out as a strangled rasp.
“What do you want?” he chokes, struggling to breathe beneath the pressure.
I tilt my head, giving him a slow, empty smile.
“I just told you.”
I lift my boot off his chest.
