I watch intently as his opponent manages to land a few solid blows.
And then I see the man mutter something beneath his breath.
I don’t hear the words, but Hunter clearly does. Because one second later, something in him changes.
It’s like a switch flips.
He goes at him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
“Fucking hell…” Adelaide mutters beside me, and I turn, startled, only now realising Milo Markev stands near her, his attention fixed on the ring below.
I hadn’t even noticed him arrive, too focused on Hunter.
Milo keeps his eyes on the ring, his usual amusement gone, replaced by something that almost looks like concern.
Adelaide doesn’t look away from the fight as she speaks over the noise.
“There’s a no kill rule here, Markev,”
“There is,” he says, “but I don’t think he gives a fuck about that right now.”
My attention snaps back to the ring, and I realise the man is down now.
And he’s still.
So, so still.
He doesn’t move at all.
But Hunter doesn’t stop.
He keeps hitting him.
Again.
And again.
Like he’s somewhere else entirely, too far gone to snap out of whatever rage took hold of him.
Like he only has one goal left now.
Kill.
If nobody stops him, he’ll succeed.
I don’t even think.
One second I’m seated, and the next I’m on my feet, shoving through the crowd and ignoring the complaints, the bodies in my way.
I reach the edge of the ring.
“Hunter!”
