Justin shook his head, his eyes glancing away across the room to where Christian was now doing T’ai Chi-like exercises. “Can’t say I agree with how they’ve gone about it,” he said, “but I understand the anger.”
“And if he doesn’t throw the fight?” Dave didn’t know whether to believe Tony’s words. He’d sounded like some sort of Mafia gangster—or at least, how they talked in movies—but the fact remained that this was their town and no one would ask any questions if two visiting shifters disappeared. And if Christianwas right that they’d killed Jesse’s pack, another murder or two certainly wouldn’t trouble them.
“Let me look at your leg,” Justin said.
“What?”
“Your leg. We might need to move fast.”
That was answer enough. Life was hard in a pack like this, which made death easy. Tendrils of real fear coiled in his stomach. Whatever was coming next, it made sense for Dave to be in the best situation for meeting it, so he let Justin—who’d learned first aid as a Boy Scout, apparently—take his boot off and examine his ankle.
Sick pain stirred in Dave’s gut, cold sweat prickling down his spine as Justin carefully explored the injury. But even then, he couldn’t take his eyes from Christian. Stubborn, defiant Christian, who was facing an impossible decision.
Whatever he chose, the result would break him.
CHRISTIAN
Fury burned hot in his veins as he started his warm-up for the next fight. The fight he wouldwin,because losing was not an option. Losing would never be an option again. It was how he could look in the mirror every morning, knowing he would never again be weak or vulnerable.
Every time he won a fight, it was like he was taking something back that had been stolen from him. If he were to deliberately lose this one, he would be surrendering every inch of ground he’d gained so painfully over the years. He’d die before he did that.
He stretched out his quads with extra care. He’d watched Eagle fight and knew he was like an eel at dealing with fists, but a high kick that went under his guard could still take him down. And he was going to take that big bastard down. Except that if he did… His breath hitched as helplessness welled up in him. He couldn’t risk it. He had to take the dive.Hadto, because otherwise they’d hurt Dave. Or worse.
If he gave in, if he surrendered, he’d lose himself. But if he didn’t, he’d lose Dave.
He took a deep breath, and his throat burned. One way or another, his life would end in the next ten minutes.
Before stepping into the cage, he took one final look over at Dave, who was gazing back at him. His eyes were blue and calm like the summer sky. Steady in a way Christian had never been.
His chest tightened. This man knew him. Had always known him. And he was still here, looking at Christian like he was worth it all, eventhis.
That was the moment Christian knew. There wasn’t a choice to make. There never had been.
He turned and walked into the cage.
Chapter Thirty
DAVE
Justin finished strapping Dave’s ankle and carefully worked his boot back on, and then Raf was back. With a last strained smile, Justin moved away.
All that was left for Dave to do was watch Christian fight. He told himself Christian had survived worse, that he’d survive this too. But something about the way Christian moved made Dave’s skin crawl. Every motion was honed, efficient, brutal and beautiful, yet beneath that grace, something was wrong. He’d been pushed past his limits. They were going to force Christian to fight over and over, until all he knew was savagery and killing.
He shivered at the thought, then told himself that could never happen, because Matt would come for him. He might be too late to stop this today, but Matt would never leave Christian here.
That knowledge comforted him slightly as he watched Christian’s lethal grace and the deadly, perfect arc of his body. Even likethis, with the stakes what they were, Christian was beautiful and Dave couldn’t regret a single thing about loving him.
He was so busy watching Christian’s iron will drive his body through exhaustion and out the other side that he didn’t realize how long the fight had gone on. Not until Christian stumbled and went into Eagle’s elbow rather than away from it. That was all Eagle needed to sweep his legs from beneath him and take him down.
For an instant, Dave thought that was it, that Christian had done the unthinkable. And maybe he’d tried, but his instinct to protect himself kicked in hard. From underneath, he locked Eagle in a tight hold, legs coiled with precision and strength. Then, in a move that bent even the laws of physics to his will—or at least demonstrated an obscene amount of skill—he twisted them both, rolling the fight and pinning Eagle beneath him.
They were straining, muscled bodies testing for the minute shifting of weight that was all it would take for positions to be reversed, and Dave saw it happen. Saw when Christian loosened his hold fractionally. He tilted his weight and let the balance tip.
Dave’s heart clenched. It went against everything in Christian’s nature, everything he’d been taught, everything he’d survived. But he’d done it. He’d stopped fighting, made himself vulnerable. ForDave.
Dave’s eyes were burning as he watched Eagle punch Christian in the face. One. Two. Three hits, fast and brutal. Christian’s head snapped sideways with the last one, blood arcing through the air.
Dave was on his feet, a scream tearing out of him. The noise from the crowd drowned him out, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His vision blurred as blood streamed down Christian’s face in vivid red streaks.
