I opened a new message to Darragh and typed the words that made me feel sick.
I’ll throw the fight. Do what needs to be done.
Keep your hands off her.
I hit send and tossed the phone onto my station, running a hand through my hair.
The fight was fixed, my soul sold, and for the first time in my life, I was praying that losing would be enough.
Chapter twenty-six
Ingrid
The damp night air felt heavy as I trailed behind May and Amber. It had been days since I’d seen Tristian and I was stupid enough to think showing up here would help. Tonight was fight night, and for reasons unknown to me, I wasn’t invited. A part of me felt small, stung by the exclusion because Tristian knew I was his loudest—if quietest—supporter. But another part of me understood. This world of blood and bruised knuckles wasn’t where I belonged, yet here I was, chasing his shadow into the dark.
I knew the gym guys, and despite the knot in my stomach, I wanted to be there. I wanted to be the one he looked for in the crowd. As we reached the door, the guard’s massive frame blocked the light. He waved May and Amber through with a nod, but his arm dropped like a lead bar the second I tried to follow, stopping me dead.
“Does he know you’re here, sugar?” he asked.
I bit my lip, the lie catching in my throat as I gave a soft, hesitant shake of my head.
He glanced back into the roaring gym, a grimace flickering across his face before he looked back at me.
“Go find a seat, and I’ll let Kane and James know you’re here.”
I nodded, slipping past him into a wall of heat, sweat, and adrenaline. I followed the girls toward the seats, feeling the weight of a dozen predatorystares. I kept my head down, staring at the floor until we sat. It was early, the sound of heavy bags being hit and a few men practicing in the corner, loud in the room.
“Ingrid, we’ll be right back,” May said, her eyes already tracking a man waving them over from a few rows down.
I didn’t have the strength to protest. I watched them go, feeling suddenly small and exposed on my own.
I pulled out my phone. My heart did a painful little roll when I saw the silence. No reply to my message from this afternoon. I’d only asked if he was busy tomorrow morning; I had this silly, hopeful dream of us going apple picking. But he hadn’t given me a date. He hadn’t given me anything.
I’m the problem,I thought. He was a king in this world, and I was just an interruption he didn’t have time for.
“Hello, sweetness…” said a voice beside me, the Irish twang making my skin crawl. I bit my lip, breath hitching as I looked up to see Darragh. His conniving gaze mapped me, his eyes traveling over my body with a slow, sickening ownership. He reached out, his fingers cold as he brushed a stray hair behind my ear. I shuddered, a physical reaction I couldn’t suppress. His smile only sharpened.
“Here to see Tristian fight, eh?” he said.
I managed a single, silent nod.
Darragh turned his gaze toward the ring, nodding. “Pretty good seats right here... Glad you’ll be able to see everything.”
He didn’t leave. He settled his arm across the back of my chair, boxing me in. My eyes burned with unshed tears, my throat tight with fear.
When May and Amber finally returned, they cast a wary glance at him, but Darragh just gave them a casual, chilling nod. Then he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, his hand finding my shoulder in a soft, terrifying caress. “Don’t be nervous, sweetness,” he whispered.
I scanned the room desperately for Kane or James, but the gym was a sea of moving bodies and rising noise. Everyone was too caught up in the coming violence to notice my silent plea for help.
As the house lights dimmed, plunging us into a gritty darkness, Darragh’s voice cut through the shadows. “Ever seen Tristian lose a fight?”
My voice was a fragile, broken thing when I finally found it. “No... T-the guys tell me he doesn’t lose. He hasn’t lost a fight in a while...”
Darragh nodded slowly. “We’ll see about that…”
The announcer stepped into the ring, the spotlight catching the gold of his microphone. I braced myself for Darragh to stay, to keep his hand on me all night, but he gave my shoulder one last, bruising squeeze before standing up and disappearing into the crowd. His two goons appeared from seats nearby and followed.
I relaxed only slightly. But knowing he was here, somewhere in this room, had set every nerve ending on fire. I’d never understood what Darragh actually wanted from Tristian. Just that he’d be fighting under his rules… What did that mean?
