We’re two hours in of me following him like a fucking stalker when I realize he’s probably just out doing errands.
It’s dark now and I should really be getting home.
But as he takes off again, I can’t help but follow.
“Fuck.” I groan, pulling out into the main street, making sure to stay a few cars behind.
The further we get, the more worried I become. It’s not until we start to head out of town that I get this gut sinking feeling he’s fighting tonight after all.
My suspicions are confirmed when he pulls up to another warehouse. Only this one isn’t abandoned. Cars fill the parking lot and people come and go. I follow in a few seconds later, parking my car on the far end of where he ends up parking his.
I watch as Tatum gets out and heads inside.
“Now what the fuck am I going to do?” I sigh, leaning my head against the steering wheel.
This is so stupid. I shouldn’t even be here. It’s none of my business how they choose to spend their time. It’s their lives. Not mine. I have no say.
But the idea of him going in there and possibly getting hurt makes me sick to my stomach.
Lifting my gaze, I stare at the building for a good half hour before I finally make my decision to go inside.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter to myself.
Thankfully, I blend in, dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. My hair is messed up from running my hands through it far too many times and I’m glad I put my contacts in this morning, because my glasses would probably draw attention.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I nod at the doorman before slipping inside.
My nose wrinkles as the smell of sweat, alpha pheromones, and blood hits me.
It’s loud in here, the sounds of music and shouting mingling together. This place is packed and I have to force myself from turning around and leaving right now.
Part of me knows I don’t belong here, but the other part of me says that's stupid because my father is one of the most powerful and deadly men around. These people might not be able to recognize me, but I have no doubt they would know my name.
I look around, trying to catch any glimpse of Tatum, but it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. He could be anywhere.
After making my way around this level, I try downstairs.
The music fades, replaced with the sound of people screaming and cheering.
When I get to the bottom, I see it. The ring in the middle of the room. This space is just as big as upstairs, only it’s filled with people watching two men beat the shit out of one another.
I watch as the two of them move around the ring, throwing punches and kicks. I’m drawn in, finding myself interested until I see that one of the men is Tatum. My alpha.
His shirt is off, only dressed in a pair of workout shorts. His hair is covered in sweat, blood dripping from his nose and busted lip.
My heart stops, my eyes widening. A fierce protectiveness takes over me and I find myself walking towards the ring, like a moth drawn to a flame.
He lets out a manic laugh as the other guy throws a punch and misses. But Tatum doesn’t.
I pause, transfixed again for a whole new reason as I watch my alpha become a fucking beast. He’s done messing around and is in it to win now.
He lets himself go, blow after blow until the other guy hits the ground. Tatum stands there, chest heaving as he wipes the blood off his nose.
When the other guy doesn't get up, the whole room cheers as Tatum lifts his arms up in victory.
A man comes out onto stage and says something to him. Tatum laughs and gives the guy a hug before nodding and getting off the platform.
What the fuck was that? And why the fuck is my cock so damn hard watching him unleash like that?
