“Where’s the fight?” I ask, lifting myself from the bed and pushing my body through the pain. He turns to me, rushing tomy side to help, only to be stopped with a wave of my hand. “Don’t need your help. Just tell me where the fight is.”
Zayden
I bounce light on my feet, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake the tension that knots in the middle. It’s strange not having Safra here. I act as if it annoys me, but I’ll give anything to hear him say some shit that causes me to roll my eyes…. Without him here, the air feels heavier, the crowd louder, every sound scraping against my nerves. The cage door groans open, and my pulse stutters before finding its quickening pace. Adrenaline and anticipation flood my bloodstream, making me all jittery inside.
I shake off my arms, my gaze moving toward the end of the cage just as Sledge steps inside. Walking in short strides, arms swinging side to side, chin held up high, and shoulders back, only to fall when we make eye contact. A river of lava replaces my blood, making me hot and lightheaded, and even more nervous than before.
What’s he doing inside the cage? And why the fuck am I fighting him? More importantly, why are they making me lose to him? Sledge wasn’t from Costa Mar or Villalargos, he’s older than us and bets on fights… I touch the base of my neck, scratching at the spot, unable to maintain his gaze. My fingers twitch against the tape, nerves crawling under my skin. Sledge’s presence inside the ring doesn’t make any sense… and that’s all I keep thinking about.
He must have noticed, because he angles his head, studying me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Didn’t expect you,” I grumble.
Sledge chuckles nervously, touching gloves with me. “Didn’t expect you either,” he ushers out, offering me a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.What the fuck is actually happening right now?“Guess we’re both the punchline tonight,” he quickly adds.
“I guess so.”
I glance up toward the balcony that the elite hide behind and scowl in disgust.What are they up to?The more the question tosses inside my mind, the more my stomach knots, then the bell rings, and it’s showtime. Sledge wastes no time, moving first and testing me with a jab that lands against my ribs. I let it, not even bothering with swinging back. They want me to lose, I will. I won’t even lift a finger, then he lands another, almost knocking the wind from my lungs.
The crowd roars, and I can focus on the man before me who’s looking at me like a puzzle he’s ready to solve.
“Come on, man,” Sledge bites out, even though there’s no real anger behind his words. “You’re making me look bad.”
I shrug, not caring about his words. It’s not like I wanted to do this. If anything, I think this fight would turn out pretty entertaining. But if I would be forced to forfeit a win, then I might as well embarrass the assholes I arrived with. Ezra. My gaze flicks back up to the balcony where Peter looks down at us, like insects, with a frown painted on his face. Ezra looks unamused and lost in conversation with the man beside him. Sledge swings, and the hit feels like a hammer to the jaw. I can taste the blood that quickly gathers, and I swallow it down. Still not changing my defense mode, two arms up, using my forearms to block.
“Don’t you do this,” Sledge snaps, moving forward, forcing us to grapple. “Fight… Zayden.”
I don’t.
We’re practically dancing, grappling each other in a macabre dance of violence. “What? You don’t want to look good for your boyfriend,” he teases with a smirk, but I still don’t answer. My focus continues to drift to Peter, wondering what he’s thinking. Sledge notices. “Ahh… no Thiago tonight? Is that why you’re not showing off?”
“Shut up,” I grumble, pushing him away. His lips stretch wide, his blond strands falling messily around him. “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise?” That earns him a glare, and he licks his lips. “He might be too busy with a sweet piece of ass. He’s known for that.”
“Watch it, pretty boy…” I warn.
He only taps his bare chest and grins. “Oh that hits close to home? Are you gonna cry about it…” Sledge moves with speed, and his hook hits the side of my face, causing me to stumble backwards. “Or fight.” His last word is punctuated with another blow to my side.
This time, I swing. He dodges, laughing. “There he is. Thought you were sleeping.”
“Keep talking, old man,” I warn. “I might have to lay you out.”
He does.
Baiting me perfectly into his trap. He’s the spider, and I tripped right in his web. Moving with precision, I swing. My right hook catches him across the jaw. He stumbles, surprised, then charges back. We collide, fists and elbows. My favorite ballad of violence… And Sledge dances perfectly to the beat. My blood is pumping, my nerve endings come alive, and the joy of the fight consumes me. I knee his side, sending him into the cage that rattles with every impact I deliver.
Sledge tries to grab my arm, but I twist out of it and slam him back into the chain-link. The crowd explodes. My pulse roars in my ears, every hit landing heavier, until he drops to one knee. Yet red is all I see. Red for him. Red for me. And it’s fucking blinding. I swing until arms close around me. The ref steps in and the bell rings.
All the noise fades into static.
I don’t look toward the balcony, only charge out of the cage with sweat dripping off me, chest heaving, and anger that eats me alive. The crowd parts for me. The walk to the locker room reeks of disinfectant and old blood. My heart continues to hammer away inside my chest, and the tightness around my throat returns.
“Fuck,” I bite out, using my teeth to rip at the bandages that adorn my hand. I fucked up… and I’m sure I will pay the price one way or another. I push through the locker room door, moving toward my usual spot at the warehouse, and pull open the thin metal door. Sitting right on top of my gym bag is a box. With trembling fingers, I reach for it and open it. Inside, there’s an old phone and, of course, I turn it on. The screen flickers, then lights up with a single message.
Kill the queen.
The words burn through me, hotter than boiling temperature. There’s only one person who would want Shiloh dead. And that’s the same person who has me lying to my best friend and tugging at my hair. I let out a sigh, and the phone shakes within my hands. Before I can process any of it, I hear footsteps approaching, so I toss the phone back into my bag and slam the locker door shut, bracing myself for what's to come.
“Orozco,” Wesley says with a crooked grin as he smacks the top of the bat against his palm. “Just the man I wanted to see, alone and vulnerable.”
