When I was finally free from Colt, living on the constant run, never settling down or holding a steady job, I never considered a vehicle of my own. In none of my dreams, did I ever think I would find myself the owner of a vehicle, let alone the one I used to swear was my soul brought to life in the form of an automobile.
I’m shaking from the excitement and raging emotions. Astonishment, glee, confusion all warring for top spot within my chest as I climb into the driver's seat. The four of them join me, filling the passengers' positions just like we used to in Zane’s. Everything still looks new, shiny, and untouched—so of course my fingers drag over every button, switch, and dial.
“I don’t understand, how did you…?” I mutter, thoughts not quite connecting with my lips.
“When we graduated and started working, we all pitched in and bought it. It was another item we could hold, use, touch, that kept us connected to you,” Zane explains. There’s a resounding sadness in the tone of his voice and my heart tears a little, splintering at all the pain I’ve caused.
“Max has kept up the maintenance, but it was only driven one day a year. On the anniversary of the day you disappeared, we would pull it out, climb in and go to the beach. Remembering that last day we had together. We always knew, well we hoped, that when we found you again, it could then be yours,” Kade finishes.
“You’ve had this… just sitting here… for all these years?” I look at each of them, holding their eyes and searching within their depths.
There’s not a smidge of regret looking back at me, just an overwhelming feeling of love. And as I look at these four, it’s like I just know that they would go to the ends of the earth for me if I asked them to. Just as surely as I would give my life, if it meant ensuring they could live theirs. Maybe… maybe it’s time I let them see the real me—the new me.
But not now, I don’t want to mess Ry up before his match, justsoon.
Tears are free-falling as the ice wall I’ve hid behind melts and I crumble into the arms of the four most important people in my life.
“I love you,” I whimper, curling myself around Kade in the passenger seat.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me close with his nose nestled in the crook of my neck. When I pull back, tears still blurring my vision, I grab for his face, crashing mylips against his in a long and lustful kiss. Throwing all of the emotions I’m feeling into it, needing to show him just how much he means to me. How much they all mean to me.
When we part, I climb into the back repeating the motion with each of the other three. Making sure to remind them of my love and devotion, one after the other. Until there was no doubt of our feelings for each other.
When we arrive at the arena, it’s as if the entire world shifted. The crowd is loud, arguing and betting on who they think will win. The air thick with the smell of sweat and blood from fights long over. There’s a buzz trickling throughout the atmosphere from the excitement of the patrons. This is my kind of place. Never in the whole year on the run did I think to attend a fight, and looking at it now, I know it for the mistake that it was.
With the flash of a fancy key-card, Zane opens a steel door leading to a set of stairs. Perched at the top is a row of prestige viewing boxes, carefully kept neat for elite guests. The floor shines with a fresh polish, the chairs bound in leather without a single tear, complete with personal bar off to the side.
I have no qualms with this type of experience, the one that my guys here are now solely familiar with, but I wanted the real experience. The raw action. I want beer spilled across the floor and unknown sticky substances grasping at my shoes. I want shoulder to shoulder aggressiveness. The kind where you're so into the battle, you walk away with bruises as a spectator.
Kade, Max, and Zane arrange themselves among the seats, a choreographed dance that they’ve clearly performed more than once. There’s no squabbling over who sits where, or who can’t see. Just butt’s hitting the pristine leather and settling in for the evening. It’s…ni—
Nope! Fuck it, can’t even finish that thought. It’s dull as hell.
Excusing myself with the pretense of needing the restroom, Z gets up ushering me down a hallway to show me where the washrooms are up here. Once I thank him and enter, I lean against the door, waiting for the thunk of his footsteps to retreat back to our seats. Silence returns, and I slink out, heading back down the stairs and for the main floor chaos.
Ringside is standing room only, like a giant mosh pit waiting to wage war. My tiny stature proves an issue when the only thing I can see from where I am is the sweaty backs of the six-foot males crowding the ring. Where my height is a deficit, my small frame becomes an asset. Quickly and quietly, I slide through the crowd, under people’s legs and around their bodies, heading for the front where I’ll hopefully be able to get a better view of my man.
Finally, I find a spot right beside the cage and I only had to throw a few elbows for breathing room to get it. The electric current that has taken over the arena flows through me, a powerful pulse I’m under-prepared for, as the announcer hypes up the crowd. Music blares through the speakers hidden high in the rafters and the floor begins to vibrate as Ryder’s opponent gets announced.
Cheers and boos drown out the song as he makes his way to the ring, donning a silk robe and vibrant red shorts. Hands already taped and gloved—which I personally think is a pussy notion—he removes the garment, showing off an admittedly impressive abdomen. Scars are scattered across every visible inch of skin, varying in their degree of healing. I recognize some of the marks, having had them myself and there’s no way this guy doesn’t also fight underground.
His body still has nothing on Ry though.
The crowd doesn’t even have a chance to still before the announcer dives right into the next introduction. “Ladies and Gentleman, our headliner for this evening. With fifteen wins and three losses this season, Ryder ‘The Savage’ Leung!”
What I originally thought was a massive outpouring of support for “Ironfist,” is nothing compared to the love shown for Ry. Every single person on the floor seems to be chanting and screaming. A smile lights my face when he enters the cage and the volume increases again. The strength, the talent of my man, shines through his fans, as they rally behind him—metaphorically and physically, in this case.
Another smaller man joins Ryder in the cage and I assume this is his new manager, Tommy. He looks to be about our age, maybe slightly younger, as he gives a final pep talk to his client. The tidal wave of people finally begins to settle with breaths being held, as the room stills. It's the calm before the storm as theair grows thick and heavy. Leaving the fighters' sides, the announcer takes his position behind a desk that sits on a platform right across from me, as the clock ticks down to start the match.
Ryder happens to scan the crowd and glance my way, which has me blowing him a kiss and winking at him in support, when we catch each other's eye. The smile that crawls across his beautiful face will be etched in my memory for eternity, before he inserts his mouth guard and sheds his robe into the waiting hands of Tommy.
With one final stretch, both competitors meet in the middle, pounding fists and shaking out their limbs. They take their stances, bodies ready for the extra exertion, when a tap to my shoulder has my attention leaving Ry.
Behind me stands Kelsie. The same Kelsie I caught snooping in my room, the only one who I currently want to put a bullet between the eyes of for even looking in Ryder’s direction.
A smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes paints her features, as if someone’s forcing her to be a bitc—I mean, to play nice.
“Hey! You’re Ryder’s friend aren’t you?” The tone to her voice is sickly-sweet, but the malice behind her words still seeps out. And I definitely didn’t miss her emphasis on the word “friend” in that sentence either…
