She lifts her head, and her blue eyes travel from my bare chest to my black shorts, before slowly moving back up my body and landing on my face.
Her gaze is hungry, and when she realizes I’ve caught her, her cheeks turn pink as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fucking focus, Killian. No distractions.
My brothers make sure she gets to her seat and each kiss her on the cheek before they leave to go meet Tony. I step into the cage with Gabe behind me. Our referee, Jonesy, stands between us.
“Welcome to Fight Night. You know the rules… there are none. Killian Bonetti versus Gabe Lowe.”
“Three-Two-One,” Jonesy counts down, and Gabe turns to me with a smug grin.
“Mighty is the King until he falls.”
Nice. A reference to the fact that we’re frequently called the ‘Bonetti Kings’. I didn’t start it, and I don’t like it.
In my peripheral vision, I spot her and Gabe's lackey, Steven. I also hate that slimy mother fucker. He does his Master’s bidding without delay. It doesn’t matter what it is, nothing is off limits. And right now, he has his hand on Heather's thigh while my brothers are dealing with Gabe’s other buddy, Tony. He pulls her skirt up slowly, as she glares daggers at him and–
Gabe lands a punch to my jaw I didn’t see coming, because I’m fucking distracted by this asshole with his hands on my girl.
No. My brothers’ girl.
I raise my fist and punch him in the stomach, putting as much weight as I’ve got behind it, and he grunts in pain but doesn’t move. Over his shoulder, I spot her wide eyes as she tries to push Steven in the chest, but he’s solid as a rock.
His hand disappears inside her skirt, and I see fucking red. I don’t see the next punch coming toward my face.
Or the next one.
Or the one after that.
I hit the floor, landing on my stomach.
I’m unable to move. I lie motionless on the cold cage floor.
She knees Steven in the balls and charges for the cage, screaming at me.
“Get up, Killian!”
Gabe sits on my back and yanks my hair back, as he punches the side of my face three more times, causing my vision to blur, but I still see her.
Tears run down her face as she screams at me, her voice echoing in my ears, dulling the sounds of the crowd.
“The King has fallen,” Gabe yells, as he tosses a plastic crown on top of my hand, as Jonesy declares Gabe the winner.
My brothers rush to their girl to console her, as she stares directly into my eyes. And now I have confirmation.
She meant what she said.
But she shouldn’t have.
Never begin to care for the enemy.
And I am her enemy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CARTER
Her screams mixed with the roar of the crowd, but it was unmistakably her. Every part of her is etched into the fabric of my being. What she feels, I feel.
