She rolls her eyes, but the fire in them sparks hotter.
“We are all linked, so anything you say, Kaden will hear it.” I warn low, and she gives me a death stare that only makes me harder.
I climb on the bike and offer my hand. She stares at it for a beat, defiant, but finally grabs hold and climbs up behind me. When she sits down, she gasps. “Oh my fucking.” She stops herself abruptly, biting her lip. Kaden asks over comms if everything is fine. I chuckle deeply.
“Everything is perfect.” The bike roars to life, and I pull out onto the main road, throttle twisting.
I ride front with Kaden tight next to me, my men all in black bikes and black gear following close behind, formation iron. Her hands wrap around my waist hard, fingers digging in like she’s afraid to let go. “Ever been on a bike?” I ask over the wind, voice steady.
She murmurs a no against my back.
“Another first with me, uh?” I lick my lips, tasting the rush. She’s too innocent, even after running from a stalker for years, and now she will have another first, plugged and pressed to me.
We head to the docks. Park the bikes in a neat row. I help her off before me, steadying her wobble. She removes the helmet and almost swings it at my stomach, eyes blazing.
“Here, asshole.” She grunts, shoving it into my chest.
I lean closer, breath mingling. “You didn’t call me asshole an hour ago.” I remind her, and her cheeks bloom red instantly, heat rising.
“Go to hell.” She whispers fiercely, but her eyes drop to my mouth for a second.
I give her half a smile. Kaden walks ahead, and we follow. Half my men stay outside on watch; the others enter with us, dividing smoothly around the warehouse. I usually come alone, but Autumn has a target on her back, and there is no way I’m risking her life.
“Where are we?” She stops dead, staring at the ring in the centre, lights harsh and crowd buzzing.
I walk up behind her, hand brushing her lower back. “One of the rings owned by a friend.” I watch her eyes dart all over, taking in the sweat and blood scent, cheeks blooming red again with that mix of thrill and nerves.
“Flynn.” Christian shows up, gaze flicking to her then back to me with surprise clear in his eyes. I’ve never brought a woman here. Never.
“I’m next.” I tell him flat, and he nods quickly.
We walk towards the left side, and Autumn keeps looking around, body alert. She’s wearing loose jeans and a sweater that rides up to show her stomach when she moves, breasts full enough to catch every bastard’s attention. I want to kill every fucker in this place who looks too long.
I strip my jacket and shirt off slow, muscles flexing under ink. Her mouth drops open, breath catching. “You are not going to fight, right?” She grabs my arm, pulling me closer, nails digging into my skin.
“Are you worried about me, trouble?” I tease, but her eyes flick over my shoulder, and real fear flashes there, tightening my gut.
“He’s huge, Flynn.” She whispers, tugging me nearer, body pressing instinctively.
“So you do care about me.” I joke, but my chest warms unexpectedly.
“Are you cracking jokes right now?” She snaps, voice pitching higher. Kaden laughs from the side.
She turns to him. “Are you letting him do this?” Kaden just nods calmly, sitting down on one of the chairs next to the ring.
The announcer booms my name and the fucker’s. “Sit. Slowly.” I grin wide. She rolls her eyes hard but hasn’t let go of my arm yet, fingers trembling. “Autumn.” I warn low and look down at her hand. She removes it reluctantly, heading towards Kaden with careful steps.
The bell rings, and the fucker lunges first, a lumbering bull swinging wild haymakers. I slip left easy, his fist whistling past my ear. Crowd roars muffled. I counter crisp: jab to the ribs, crack loud enough to feel in my knuckles. He grunts, stumbles, but swings back sloppily.
I dance light on my feet, control locked tight. Circle him slow, eyes on his tells: shoulder twitch before the hook, weight shift for the uppercut. Another dodge. My elbow snaps into his jaw, spinning his head. Blood sprays the canvas, metallic tang hitting the air.
He charges blind, arms wrapping my waist for a takedown. I sprawl hard, knees driving into his chest, then hammer fists down his guard. Controlled and precise.
Veins bulge thick along my forearms with every strike, ink rippling over flexing muscle. Abs clench iron as I pivot, boot stomping his thigh to buckle him.
He drops to a knee, gasping. I could end it clean: choke or ground-and-pound. But I toy, my satisfaction humming. Hook to the body, cross to the temple. He sways, eyes glazing.
Then he spits blood, grins ugly through swollen lips, and points straight at Autumn in the front row. “If I win, I’m taking her.” Voice gravel, loud enough for the mic to catch. “Gonna fuck that sweet mouth till she forgets your name.”
